Miss Secretary
by AiThe19
Summary: When Tara Henley gets employed as Dumbledore's new secretary, she has no idea what she is signing for – and keeping an eye on Harry is just a small part of the deal. Neither did she expect to fall in love with the infamously bitter Potions Master, nor him to leave her feelings unrequited. What's worse, when things start to look good for her, Lily's family emerges from the shadows…
1. Chapter 1

**Special thanks and credits to my beta, Fire and Starlight for reading through this chapter for me :)**

* * *

"It is the will of the Ministry," Dolores Umbridge's sweet voice resonated through the Headmaster's office with clarity, "that matters at this school are put into order at once. With the Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two–"

"Yes, Ms Under-Secretary, the decree installs you as my new Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, whether I agree or not." Dumbledore interrupted her calmly, the fingers of his hands touching.

"Don't you agree with the Minister's choice?" Dolores cried and Dumbledore gave a defensive smile.

"Of course I do. What I don't agree with is the Ministry's decision to take the power of recruiting teachers out of my hands–"

"And for a good reason!" Umbridge exclaimed, her sweet smile had vanished and she now sat at the edge of her plush chair like an overweight pink budgie. "You have proven to be extensively incompetent – if you pardon me, Headmaster - incompetent at finding the annual replacements for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, having occasionally slipped into the ranks of Death Eaters and even – oh! – _half-breeds!_ "

"I suppose you would like to change your curriculum as the new Professor of the Dark Arts?" Dumbledore asked calmly, as though he hadn't just heard her last sentence.

"Yes, you suppose right." Umbridge retorted and clutched her handbag tightly with her long pink claws as if it were containing her ticket to greatness in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Madam Under-Secretary, I am well aware that the Ministry intends to have the entire school well scrutinised." Continued Dumbledore and watched Umbridge's eyebrows rising higher and higher, "I am not saying I don't look forward to the immense amount of paperwork that awaits me when you eagerly dig in, however, I don't pretend my eyes are not getting weaker and weaker. I can hardly do as much writing as I could before, and it is only reasonable and right that I take a secretary."

"If you desire so, Headmaster," Dolores thrusted her chin proudly forward, "I can arrange for a Ministry-approved assistant to arrive at Hogwarts and be at your immediate disposal."

"No need to trouble yourself, Madam Under-Secretary, I have no desire for any Ministry-approved assistant." Dumbledore retorted calmly, upon hearing that statement, Dolores' cheeks flushed with anger, "I have already chosen the woman suitable for this purpose." Dumbledore gave a polite smile and his blue eyes glistened behind his spectacles.

"I'm astonished, Headmaster, that you haven't consulted her with me, it is imperative that I–"

"Not imperative, Madam Under-Secretary, I didn't have to consult it with you, because you are, as you are surely well aware, my Professor Against the Dark Arts, and as such, I don't usually consult the process of choosing a new member of staff with my employees. Especially when it's such a piffling job as the one of a secretary."

"But still, the Ministry could suggest excellent candidates–"

"I assure you that the lady I've chosen is excellent enough." Said Dumbledore resolutely, indicating the discussion was over. Dolores Umbridge straightened her back even more and with her nostrils flared, she was determined not to have such disobedience passed unnoticed. She would see to it that this greenhorn of a woman got replaced as quickly as possible.

-oOo-

When Miss Henley was arriving towards the school gates in the carriage that had been sent for her to Hogsmeade, she couldn't believe how little the school has changed. The meadows and heaths were just as she remembered them to be from her childhood, the lake was there, the forest was there, the greenhouses, the owlery, the Quidditch pitch, everything stayed the same. She gave a faint smile as she recalled her school years vividly: She was a timid child, she didn't have many friends. But still, those years she considered the happiest years of her life. When she was approached by Professor Dumbledore's offer to become his new secretary, she didn't hesitate a second. Professor Dumbledore had always been very, very kind to her.

Miss Henley got out of her carriage and continued on foot, taking her small travel suitcase with her. The suitcase was charmed to contain all her worldly possessions, which weren't numerous, due to the fact that she was an orphan and had but one living relative, her great-grandfather who was believed by many to be insane, but still, she needed that spell for making it bigger inside. Miss Henley walked leisurely towards the castle, stopping here and there to catch her breath and to enjoy the view, which was truly marvellous.

"Miss Henley, I believe?" Professor Dumbledore was already waiting for her in the Entrance Hall and seemed very content to see her.

"Yes, sir." Miss Henley gave a wide smile, uncovering a beautiful set of white teeth which were otherwise hidden beneath her red-painted lips.

"No problems at the Apparition point, Miss Henley?" Dumbledore asked gently and eyed the woman with great curiosity. She was neither thin nor large, had an ivory coloured skin, big brown eyes and dark curly hair tamed into a delicate bun. She was wearing clothes appropriate for her status and age, which was – if Dumbledore remembered correctly – 25 years old; her white blouse suited her nicely, gently displaying her shoulders and collarbones, and she wore a long dark red skirt. Her plain face bore an expression of great innocence, and – if he could speak frankly – of certain pliable plainness and soft naiveté. He guessed her temper would be gentle and skittish, similar to a rabbit baby in the woods – her behaviour was polite and respectful – she observed her surroundings shily, but with great curiosity. Dumbledore could usually see right through people's characters, and he resolved not to box Miss Henley too quickly – after all, he thought, the quietest people are often capable of the greatest things, either good or bad. He looked into her solemn brown eyes again, offered her his arm and began to ascend the staircase.

"No, not at all sir, Hogsmeade is very quiet at this time of day." Miss Henley answered and sent her suitcase floating behind her, because she needed a free hand to lift her long crimson skirt so that she wouldn't step on its hem.

"Do you feel the sweet pang of nostalgia upon seeing those familiar grounds again, Miss Henley?"

"Very." She gave him another big smile and her brown eyes glistened with excitement and youthful eagerness.

"That's good, very good, Miss Henley." Dumbledore said, giving her an amiable smile, "you'll be overseeing them from my window too many a time. I actually think the view will pall up on you quite soon."

"Oh, never, sir!" Exclaimed Miss Henley and gave a soft chuckle. "My time at Hogwarts had always been as pleasant as it could be, so I'll always look at those grounds with delight and joy."

"You're too kind, Miss Henley," Dumbledore gave another smile, lighter than the previous one, "shall we proceed upstairs to my office? I'll make you acquainted with all the details of your new job."

"By all means, sir." The woman gave a slight nod and grasped her skirts again.

-oOo-

"And that is all there is to it, Miss Henley." Dumbledore concluded. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"Oh, I've handled worse, sir, believe me!" She gave a soft laugh again and Dumbledore couldn't but marvel at the joyful woman, at her round lips, full, rosy cheeks, brown eyes which glistened with little sparkles, at her thick black hair, and at the tendrils framing her face.

"You are all this school has ever needed, Miss Henley. I shall rearrange the furniture in my office for you, and you – why don't you take a walk outside? It's a fine summer day, you'll miss the sun when you are locked up here with heaps of parchments, believe me, sometimes I wish I could just get up and take a walk myself, see Hagrid or go to Hogsmeade for a pint – do you drink, Miss Henley?"

"Oh, no, not at all, sir, I don't feel happy when I do." Answered Miss Henley, and she collected her suitcase.

"Don't worry about your luggage, the house-elves will take it to your room for you."

"I have totally forgotten about the house-elves." Miss Henley gave a soft smile and putting just her laced gloves on, because it was a very warm summer day, she walked past the stone gargoyle and passing through the sun-lit corridors, she was quickly outside again.

She decided to walk to the lake, where she could easily sit on the grass or even have a swim in the cool water – was the giant squid still there? She wondered about the squid for some time and suddenly, she found herself in an unrecognisable part of the grounds. Being alarmed at first, she quickly calmed down when she saw the infamous Whomping Willow nearby. She had just got lost in her thoughts and she had to walk quite a bit now to get back to the lake.

"What are you doing here? This is a school, you know." She could hear the hoarse voice of the schoolkeeper, Mr Filch. She could remember vividly how she hated that man when she was still a student. _I'm not a student anymore,_ she said to herself, and she felt great relief. She faced the schoolkeeper and said:

"Professor Dumbledore has sent for me."

"So you're the new Defense teacher? You seem too young to me." He growled.

"No, I'm not a teacher, I'm the secretary." She said in a clear voice.

"What is the need for a secretary? Go home, girl, and don't trouble yourself more."

"I won't listen to an advice of a schoolkeeper."

"Well, if you won't, then you won't. But I'm telling you, you're not needed in this castle."

"That isn't yours to decide."

"Well, well, well…" He hobbled past her and gave her a nasty grin as he turned around: "Enjoy all the freaks that are in here, Potter in particular."

Miss Henley didn't feel like walking anymore. She had always been a rather shy person, easily intimidated, and she took the confrontation way too seriously. She turned on the spot and marched back to the castle, determined to shut herself up in her room for the rest of the evening. Suddenly she didn't think herself ready to face all the staff of the school after all those years. Many professors who had been teaching her were still there: Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professor Trelawney, Professor Snape… She didn't feel ready to meet them. They would doubt her usefulness in the castle as Filch had done just a minute ago, and it was in vain to tell them Professor Dumbledore wished her to be there. They didn't know what he asked her to do, and they didn't know she was necessary. They were all ignorant, and their ignorance greatly infuriated her. She was scared. She wished there would be a crowd of fellow students she could disappear into. But she was an adult witch now, an adult capable of facing people and handling the conversation, and it suddenly occurred to her the others would think it weird if she refused to go out of her room. But she really didn't want to go. She resolved not to start a conversation unless directly asked a question, and she resolved minding her plate only and keeping her head down. This really suited her the best. And this was what she did at the dinner. She gave polite smiles to everyone, and answered questions, but really, if she were to choose, she would spend the evening in her little room on the fifth floor with books. At least she got to meet the new professors. There was Professor Umbridge, who seemed somehow fed up and a bit annoying actually, and Miss Henley had a vague notion of seeing her at the Ministry somewhere. And then there was Professor Sinistra, who was really nice to talk to, and she was already looking forward to meeting her now and then. Miss Henley was very curious whether Professor Snape had changed a little – she remembered him as a twelve year old girl when he just started teaching – she remembered him a young man in his twenties who taught Potions knowledgeably but strictly, and apart from that was always deeply immersed in books. The young Professor Snape from her memories never gave detentions unless he had to, was always biased and on the side of the Slytherin house, spoke as little as possible and took every steps imaginable to evade any social activity. Miss Henley looked curiously at his older self: It seemed to her that something has changed, she didn't really fancy him much now, much less than when a student. He seemed to be sulkily meditating and she was wondering whether it was her presence that troubled him. But the others later told her that Professor Snape was always like that, and he seemed a bit more cheerful only when Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup or the House Cup, which hadn't happened in years. This left Miss Henley a bit sad, because she perceived he had changed greatly from his younger, much untroubled self.

She excused herself from the dinner as soon as she could and it was only when she was combing her long curly black hair when the reality hit her square in her face: She was back at Hogwarts, she was Dumbledore's right hand now, as it were, and she had the entire staff to talk to. There wouldn't be any other witch luckier than her. As she crawled into her luxuriously soft bed and could feel her body sinking into the mattress, she gave out a sigh of pleasure. _Oh dear_ , she thought, _that's really something, I could sleep for ages in such a bed!_

-oOo-

 _"_ _Miss Henley, I'll be very cordial with you if I may – Lord Voldemort has returned just two months ago and we need you in this castle to–"_

 _"_ _Oh, of course, Professor Dumbledore, I'll gladly do it–"_

 _"_ _Very well, I'll acquaint you with Severus soon, you might need–"_

 _"_ _Oh yes, sir, I'll gladly do what Professor Snape asks–"_

 _"_ _Very well, I'm relieved there's someone in this castle I can count on–"_

She tossed and turned violently in her sleep. She considered re-living her day in her dreams the worst form of resting. She woke up in the morning tired and worn-out, as if she spent the whole night running errands around the castle. Stretching her arms and legs tiredly, she managed to find her favourite long crimson skirt and white blouse and put them on correct side up. _Oh, dear_ , she thought, _my first day of work and I'll show up as tired as a house-elf_. She scooted down the two floors until she stood in the Gargoyle corridor, gasping for breath. The fact was that she was a bit late and she decided to skip breakfast and head straight for the Headmaster's Office. Just as she was about to say the password, a tight grasp of a hand on her shoulder gave her a start.

"I cannot have my secretary skip breakfasts, Miss Henley." Dumbledore gave a kind smile and the fires in his piercing blue eyes twinkled. "You will head to the Great Hall to eat your breakfast with the other stragglers."

"Thank you, sir." She gave him a bright smile.

"However, I would appreciate it if you could be on time tomorrow." She heard the Headmaster's soft voice behind her. She spun around, her cheeks ablaze, and nodded, saying: "I will, sir. I'm sorry."

Sitting down at the staff table, she couldn't see any other straggler Professor Dumbledore was talking about. Just as she had a sip of her coffee, Professor Snape burst into the hall, his cloak billowing behind him, a stern frown on his lips. He sat down at the other end of the table, as furthest from her as he could and began spreading his toast with blueberry jam.

"I'm glad I'm not the only sleepyhead in here." She said good-naturedly, giving him a polite smile and baring her white teeth.

"I have been occupied elsewhere with no time for eating." Snape snapped and glowered at her. "Is it a smudge of lipstick you have on your buck teeth, Miss Secretary?" The Potions Master asked icily. The smile disappeared from her red lips instantly and she checked her reflection at the back of her tablespoon. The smudge was there, across the two of her front teeth. She must have smudged her lipstick while applying it hastily in her room. Her face was as red as a tomato and she began eating quickly to get out of Snape's presence. She felt insulted. _Is this his revenge for being called "a sleepyhead" in good humour? Gods, this man can hold grudges! How different he is from his younger, more cheerful self!_ She thought and hoped Professor Snape's grudges against her won't last too long.

"What's your hurry, Miss Secretary? Don't you spend all your free time caged by Dumbledore in his office? Surely there cannot be anything urgent worthy of gobbling up your breakfast in such a horrid manner, is there?" The black-robed man decided to revenge himself nastily. Her tomato face acquired an ugly shade of beetroot and she started panicking. _Better not answer any of his questions_ , she thought.

"Maybe you could tell me – I haven't had the pleasure to understand this yet – why has the Headmaster such a sudden desire for a secretary?"

"You had better ask him than me." She said softly and took a big gulp of her coffee. _Gosh, I feel like a tiny worm of a student again, displayed here at his mercy. Can't he bully someone else?_

"Are you available even to other members of staff? As an auxiliary labour, perhaps? Maybe you could write my teaching reports?" He suggested with a bitter smirk, however, upon hearing this, her nerves gave way: She jumped to her feet and ran towards the gate of the Great Hall with a glass of pumpkin juice still in her hand. However, she seemed to change her mind in the middle of her dash and turned around, walking swiftly to the seat of Professor Snape. She stood across the table from him, glaring at him furiously with her deep brown eyes.

"Now it seems that you can never have enough of yourself, can you?!" The intense, deep brown eyes met with the black ones. Her eyes were like two wells, pulling him inside, challenging him, pinning him to his seat. "Turning a harmless beginning of a conversation into a trip-up, what a shame." She glared at him one more time and raising her glass into the air, she turned it upside down. The professor's hair and shoulders were drenched with pumpkin juice. She stood there, still holding her glass in her hand, and her mind was racing. _Shite. What did I just do?! Really, Tara? Splashing your ex-professor with a pumpkin juice like a five year old, is that your answer?_ Her face turned red again, she quickly put the glass back on the table and hurried to the gate before the horrid man could understand the stupidity of her action. She ran through the corridors and deep shame pulsed in her earlobs. _Merlin's beard! Gods, what have I done?! Shite! He'll hate me! He'll poison me! Well done, Tara,_ she congratulated herself as she ran through the empty corridors, _you're a complete idiot. You're as dumb as a troll._ She reached for the door to the Headmaster's Office, feeling more stupid than ever. After opening the door, she found herself in a completely new office. The whole area was completely changed. She gasped, awestruck, and looked around the new office – her new office.

There was a very nice writing desk, a stock of quills and parchments behind the desk, there were shelves and cabinets, some already stocked with books and another rolls of parchment. A candelabra stood at one corner of her desk, providing enough light even for late night work, and in front of the desk there were several comfortable chairs and a coffee table. The door opposite the entrance led, as she imagined it, into the Headmaster's Office.

"Ah, Miss Henley, how do you like your new office?" Asked the Headmaster, opening the door, which indeed lead to his own office.

"It's beautiful, how did you– I mean, I hope organising it has not caused you much trouble, sir." She breathed out in amazement.

"Miss Henley, I need you to review the old contracts of all the professors of Hogwarts for faults. I promised professor Sprout a raise, that would need to be tackled– And I need you to write the contracts for yourself and Professor Umbridge, of course, it's a bit of a last minute issue– In fact, I would appreciate it if you could write the new contracts first and see the others afterwards. The students come tomorrow and I really cannot justify to Professor Umbridge why I kept so long writing these…"

"Of course, Headmaster." Tara smiled and reaching at the shelf, she pulled out the rolls of parchment which she assumed would be the old contracts. To answer Dumbledore's quizzical look, she blurted: "I will model the new contracts on the basis of the old ones, sir."

"Very well." Dumbledore turned on his heel and disappearing into the depths of his office, he said: "I need to start exploring a very delicate matter of utmost importance, Miss Henley. This is why I have you here, you'll refuse anyone who comes into your office asking for me unless it is absolutely urgent. People keep calling here whenever they wish and I'm constantly being kept from my work."

As he closed the door behind him, there was a green flash in her small fireplace and an envelope appeared, drifting to the ground like a feather.

"Oh, Miss Henley, this is the main hub for the post, any owl that carries a letter for me is used to drop it into the chimney. Otherwise I would be standing at the window all day, opening and closing it like a fool. You'll deal with my post for me."

"Certainly, sir." She got to her feet and picked up the envelope. However, it wasn't for Professor Dumbledore, it was for her. Curious about who could be writing to her, she cut it open. There was a little piece of parchment that said: "We're not done yet. I won't put up with such insolence."

"Oh, God…" She mumbled shyly, a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks. She didn't want to begin with Professor Snape like this.

"Was that an important letter for me, Miss Henley?" Dumbledore called.

"No, sir, it was for me." She bellowed back.

"Interesting, from whom?" His voice was curious.

"Fanmail, sir." She gave a bitter smile and sat down to drafting the new contracts. She spent a nice calm morning writing the contracts, when–

"Dumbledore, I won't–" Dolores Umbridge barged into the office. Looking confusedly at the secretary, she halted: "Oh, are you the new secretary? I would have suggested someone else, but the Headmaster wouldn't hear of it."

"I see." Miss Henley said bitterly and put on a fake smile: "What can I do for you?"

"I want to see the Headmaster." Dolores Umbridge's forced sweet smile showed she won't take no as an answer. Yet, Miss Henley was daring.

"He cannot see you in the moment, can I take a message?"

"What– How do you mean he cannot see me in the moment?! Do you know who I am?!"

"Yes, ma'am– Madam Under-Secretary of the Minister for Magic." Tara answered smiling. "However, the Headmaster gave me his explicit orders he didn't want to be disturbed. I can take a message, or if it is about your contract, we can review it together, I have it here."

Umbridge cast Miss Henley a furious glance, hissing: "As early as I can, I swear I'm going to hound you out of here, miss secretary!"

"Lovely." Tara casted the teacher a small smile, rather a smirk than an actual smile, not worrying about her threat one bit.

Umbridge snatched the roll of parchment and marched out of the office without uttering anything else, only an angry 'Hm!'.

Tara shook her head and started reviewing all the other contracts with a smug smirk spread across her lips. Apparently, the times have changed at Hogwarts… She felt her euphoria ebb and she wondered how many unpleasant people she would have to endure in the castle. Being served a quick lunch in her office, she continued reviewing the school's balance and budget until well into the evening. Then she went into the Great Hall for dinner, not looking at Professor Snape once.

While Tara was helping herself to some soup. Professor Sinistra sat down next to her and seemed quite interested in her. Situations like these always made Tara really nervous.

"Hm, Tara Henley, I wonder where I heard your name… Nevermind, the Henleys aren't a pureblood family, are they?"

"No, my father was a Muggle." Tara gave a soft smile. She didn't like talking about her father much.

"My mother was a Muggle, too. There's nothing wrong with being a half-blood, personally, I think it's necessary for the preservation of wizardkind, whomever says otherwise is a fool…"

But Tara was too lost in her own thoughts to listen to Professor Sinistra properly. With the corner of her eye she could glimpse Professor Snape glowering at her angrily. Her heart started racing. _He's not done with me yet. Will he want to wreak vengeance on me?_ _Oh crap, what will he do?! Great, Tara, two enemies in your first day, you're truly exceeding any expectations. What happens if Professor Dumbledore notices? Won't he fire me? He said he wanted me to work with Snape. What shall I do?!_

"Nervous around Professor Snape, are we?" Aurora caught up with her glimpses. Tara nodded, blushing: "He's quite terrifying."

"Nah, he's mostly scaring the kids. He was once a Death Eater though, so he has that aura stuck with him I suppose, but other than that– Professor Dumbledore trusts him, so I suppose he's alright now."

Tara was contemplating telling Aurora about the morning incident with the pumpkin juice, but she resolved not to. She didn't believe in the friendship-on-the-first-sight kind of thing, and she feared Professor Snape might get even angrier with her upon learning she gave the story away to everyone – Tara was sure Aurora would spread it around as a harmless joke. She didn't want anyone to laugh at it, not when she considered it a more embarrassing situation for herself than for the unlucky Potions Master.

"No, seriously, don't worry about him." Aurora assured her, giving a warm smile. Upon seeing Tara deeply blushing, she hissed: "You– You don't _fancy_ him, do you?!"

"N-No!" Squealed Tara and hid her crimson cheeks into a tablecloth napkin. Several teachers glanced at her, Professor Snape being one of them. He watched her intently with his cold black eyes. He seemed to be searching for something in her face. Tara turned around, preferring to talk to Aurora and to hide her tomato cheeks from him. When the Headmaster rose, she stood up quickly too, preferring to walk with him to the third floor on the pretence of discussing work, in front of the Headmaster's Office she quickly said good night and ran up the two floors to be in her own room away from all inquisitive stares.

Her room was small, but cozy and nicely furnished. Opposite the door there was a dressing table with large mirror, next to it there was another door leading into the bathroom, next to it there stood the bed with violet covers, next to the bed there was a bedside table, in front of the bed was a violet rug matching the covers, and opposite the bed next to the entrance there was a wardrobe. The room was tiny, but it had a window overlooking the school grounds, and Tara was grateful for it. She opened the window and sat on the windowsill, the soft summer breeze ruffing her black locks gently. _This is Heaven,_ thought Tara and closed her eyes with delight. The feeling of embarrassment of the day left her completely and she now felt totally free, unstoppable. A wide smile spread across her lips.

-oOo-

"Harry, I wanted to talk to you about one more thing." Sirius said. They were talking in a waiting room in King's Cross and he knew they didn't have much time left. "How about your aunt Rose? Is she safe? Shouldn't the Order move her to a safer place?"

"Petunia?"

"No. Your aunt Rose."

"I don't have any other aunt besides Aunt Petunia, Sirius." Harry had no idea what Sirius was talking about and casted him a disbelieving look, as if he thought his godfather had gone mad from the long time spent in captivity of his old family house.

"No, you don't understand, I'm talking about Rose here – you know, your mum's twin sister. That could be dangerous for her, Harry, looking exactly like Lily – we should move her somewhere–"

"Is there my mum's twin sister?" Harry felt completely void of air. As if somebody was pressuring him to death. There was a woman. There was a woman who looked exactly how his mother would have looked were she alive. There was another aunt besides Petunia. Maybe she had children, and maybe he had another cousins he had no idea they existed.

"You didn't know?!" Sirius barked, his eyes popped out. He grasped Harry's shoulders and shook him. "You didn't know you had another aunt? Merlin's beard!" Harry looked at his godfather in disbelief and thought that either of them had to go completely insane. His godfather started to laugh wildly, his short barks filling the empty waiting room. But suddenly it occurred to Sirius that there could be a good reason Harry didn't know about his other aunt. Maybe she was dead, or ill, or otherwise incapable of meeting his godson – because why else wouldn't she discover herself to him? Maybe she didn't know about Harry at all, it occurred to Sirius now, maybe they made some sort of protection for her so that she wouldn't risk being in the same danger as her sister once was. Could there be any danger? Lily's sister was an ordinary Muggle, too, there was no chance she would have been endangered by Harry's presence. But it was too late now, Harry knew about her now, and Sirius could do himself justice to tell him all that he knew.

"I don't know where she lives, or if she lives at all. She was your mother's twin, her name was Rose, and she used to live with your mother's parents in Cokeworth before I went to Azkaban. I don't know anything else about her, I'm sorry." Sirius looked he meant it, and this new discovery set Harry's thoughts racing. He had another aunt. He had an aunt that looked exactly the same as his mother. If he met her– If he found her, he would see how his mother would have looked like in her thirties… Maybe he could live with her, if he couldn't live with Sirius, maybe he could stay over for holidays and spend time with his other cousins… Harry was now resolute to find Rose and form some sort of a family from the bits and pieces that remained… She could perhaps come for Christmas, and he could befriend his other cousins who were surely better than Dudley…

"She loved you, she really did… I remember you two vividly, she played with you when you were a baby and always took ages to leave, she always said good bye and talked with your mother on end with her hand at the doorknob." Sirius gave a barking chuckle and there was a light knock at the door.

"We have to go, Harry." Said Sirius gently and turning back into a black dog, he accompanied his godson to the platform. But Harry's thoughts were somewhere else. The very notion itself, that there once was someone who loved him, and who once truly wanted to spend time with him when he was an infant, that notion was wholly new, unexpected, incomprehensible, and beautiful. He wanted to meet this new aunt now, whomever she was and whenever she would be, just to call this once felt sentiment of love back again. He pictured her vividly, sitting on a sofa, reading. Or cooking the Muggle way. Or doing her Muggle job, whichever that could be.

"An aunt? Harry, are you sure?" Hermione cried and dropped a book she was reading. "Oh my- Harry– an aunt!"

"There must be a good reason Harry didn't know about her." Ron said grimly. "Maybe somebody didn't want him to know. Maybe she's dead as well, and they just wanted to save Harry the pain."

"But, is there any way of knowing?" Hermione asked, gasping.

"I'm going to ask Dumbledore." Said Harry resolutely and looked out of the window. There was his aunt somewhere and he intended to find her.

-oOo-

"Miss Henley, it's up to you to set tonight's feast menu." Dumbledore's face appeared in the doorway, blinked at her and then his door closed again.

"Couldn't you have told me yesterday, Headmaster?" Tara asked, exasperated. She was reviewing the budget for the school year and she seriously didn't have time for this. The feast would begin in few hours and – was he trying to suggest that they even didn't have a dinner plan? Tara turned around and began searching in the cupboard behind her frantically. She would just quickly repeat the same dishes as were served the year before. The sooner she did that, the sooner the elves could start working – and really, they should have been working already. She quickly scanned the list – pumpkin juice, butterbeer, twice-baked potatoes, chocolate frogs, kidney pies – she crossed those out, she didn't like kidney pies – roasted chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, roasted beef, steamed rice, pork sausages, roasted bacon, pork ribs, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, buttered peas and carrots, assorted soups… Tara's mouth started to water and she had not reached the dessert section yet. Being the Headmaster's secretary meant that she had the power to decide which dishes were to appear and which the Hogwarts students wouldn't taste that night.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, you're happy in your new place, Terry?" Her great-grandfather asked. Tara was visiting him, helping him cook and organise his household. She was very good at organising.

"Of course I am, papa." She gave him a broad smile. "Professor Dumbledore has been exceptionally kind to me."

"Do you have to work hard, my child?" Asked her great-grandfather meekly and stroke his great-granddaughter's hair affectionately. He was very, very fond of her. He loved her more than anything else on the world. Since the day her parents died, he was her second father. And since the girl had been but a few years old when she became orphaned, he was even more so than her real father. He knew she loved him deeply: Everyday, she sent him an owl from Hogwarts, enquiring anxiously about his well-being. Her great-grandfather knew that she could visit him whenever she wanted to, Hogsmeade was only a short distance from Hogwarts, but he had always known that Tara had been the brainy one of the family and thus he didn't grudge her the fact she wanted to spend her days working or reading than taking care of her great-grandfather. Moreover, he believed that even though having reached a considerably high age, he was still more than capable of taking care of himself. He actually took care of his small business, too. But when he heard Tara's voice from the kitchen "Papa, would you prefer a stew or a roast?", he knew he secretly wished to be spoiled forever.

"Stew, if you would, my dear." He mumbled back and a stray tear reached his bearded cheek. He didn't know if it was a happy tear or a sad tear. He loved his great-granddaughter so much that he often couldn't distinguish between those two.

-oOo-

Harry had been utterly miserable when his first day of school ended. The horrid woman who taught him Defense against the Dark Arts this year was hardly better than Lockhart, and he felt sorry for himself that his detentions with her were taking up space for Quidditch. However, the reason he wanted to see Dumbledore had nothing to do with Umbridge. Harry was now eager to discover more of his new aunt Rose – he wanted to know everything, where she lived, what she did for living and all the other things. He felt confused he wasn't told about her in the first place, but he presumed there would be a good reason for this.

After reaching the Headmaster's office, Harry was greatly surprised. Instead of the stony gargoyle, there was a small front office. There were wooden cupboards heaped up with documents and there was the woman from yesterday's feast, scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"I would like to speak with Professor Dumbledore." Said Harry. The woman looked up. The candlelight was reflected by her brown eyes. The brown eyes met the green ones. She set her quill aside and said: "Professor Dumbledore is not available at the moment."

"You don't understand." Said Harry feebly, "I'm Harry Potter–"

"I know who you are." Said the secretary.

"Then you know I've been up there more frequently than the majority of the students combined. Why won't you let me in?"

"I told you," Miss Henley casted him a disapproving look, "Professor Dumbledore cannot see you at the moment."

"Did he told you to refuse me specifically, or is this what you say to every–"

"Professor Dumbledore is simply not available at the moment and that is all I have to say about that." Said Miss Henley sternly.

"What happened to the gargoyle?"

"When I'm in the front office, there's no reason to require a password. I know about anyone who wishes to get to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry took a deep breath. He felt he was starting to get shirty. He looked at the stubborn woman sitting in front of him and said, forcing his voice to sound as calm as possible: "Could you please – when Dumbledore's schedule allows you to speak to him – could you tell him I was here and I wanted to see him? If he permits it, you can let me through next time I come."

"I will mention your visit to Professor Dumbledore." She nodded curtly. "And I will owl you if he consents to seeing you. But do not come here on your own unless you receive my letter, will you? I have to refuse the likes of you many times a day."

"Sure." Said Harry sulkily and by throwing his schoolbag on his shoulder again, he swiftly headed out of the office.

"Oh, Mr Potter?"

Harry turned around.

"Beware of the new Defence teacher. I hear Professor McGonagall has already warned you. She won't hesitate to bring you to your knees."

"Yeah, and the fact you won't let me see Professor Dumbledore really doesn't help."

"Mind your mouth, Potter. In front of everyone. I'm eligible to deduce house points as well, you know."

Miss Henley pressed her lips into a thin line and continued filling in her parchment. She could still remember the curious glances the students were casting her the previous night at dinner, and many dropped their jaw when Dumbledore announced her as his secretary. She could understand their confusion. The Headmaster has never had a secretary, never in the whole history of the school, and he now made himself practically inaccessible to the public by taking one. Many even whispered about some illicit activities going on between herself and Professor Dumbledore. She shuddered with disgust when she was thinking about that. _Me and Professor Dumbledore?! Never! Oh, shite, how can I think about that?! It's disgusting!_

"Miss Henley, could you owl Hagrid? I've had a hard couple of days, and I could do with a glass of brandy and a friend this evening." Professor Dumbledore's head nodded encouragingly in the doorway. Seeing her pale face, he stepped into the office.

"Professor, you've forgotten Hagrid is on leave, sir."

"Is he? Well, a good holiday'll do him good." Dumbledore gave a smile.

"You sent him on a mission, sir." Tara sighed and dipped her quill again.

"Are you quite alright, my dear? You seem upset." The old kind Headmaster said.

"Oh, Professor, I… It's nothing, really. People force themselves here on me all the time, the kids are spreading ugly rumours, and–"

"And?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rocketed across his forehead.

"Uhm, I–" Miss Henley's cheeks turned red. "I've had a- a run-in with Professor Snape, sir."

"Oh!" Dumbledore said in understanding. "Already?"

"How do you mean, sir, already?" Said Miss Henley.

"You see, Miss Henley," said the Headmaster, and sat down into the chair, facing her. "Severus is a rough man. He's been through a lot, and therefore, he can only acknowledge strong personalities."

"What do you mean, sir?" Asked Miss Henley, feeling completely dumb.

"If you weren't worth arguing with, Severus wouldn't have done it." Professor Dumbledore winked at her playfully.

"We haven't exactly argued, sir, I– kind of– I-I splashed him with my pumpkin juice." She said, cheeks burning. "He thinks- as everyone else here does- that I'm just a plain, dumb secretary. And he mocked me for it. I tried to be chatty, but he backfired on me. So my nerves just gave way and I turned my glass upside down on him." She said, her earlobes were now scarlet red as well. She made the Headmaster laugh so much that the old man had tears of laughter in his eyes.

"You see, Severus' abilities are quite outstanding. There has never been anyone like him. So, naturally, he thinks himself above anyone else. He never talks much to the other members of staff, only when he feels the need to do so, because- I dare say- he dislikes the company he's in. He's used to having people out of his way, because naturally, no one wants to spend more time with him than necessary, let alone oppose him. So he's used to get away with everything, just because he knows the others are afraid to contradict him. You, my dear, had the courage to stand up for yourself against him, and it has to be clear to you now he won't let such a thing go unnoticed."

"Should I be afraid, sir?" Miss Henley said. "I hear he was a Death Eater once."

"No, Miss Henley." Dumbledore gave her a reassuring smile. "He is a reformed Death Eater now, he won't harm you."

"He sent me a note later that morning, saying he wasn't done with me. I fear he might want to revenge himself for my folly, sir."

"Then we shall let him have his revenge." Dumbledore said, watching Miss Henley's bewildered expression with amusement. "Even if I backed you up, he would still achieve it, and with much more sneering than you already have to endure. Don't worry, Miss Henley, he won't poison you. Be brave and stand your ground. Show Severus that you are just as strong as he is. I'm sure you'll earn his respect soon." Concluded the Headmaster, smiling at her.

"I'm sorry for him, sir." Miss Henley said, sad. "I'm sure that hadn't I any friends as well, I would have been just as bitter as he is."

"Than maybe you should consider becoming Severus' friend, Miss Henley." Dumbledore said. "Taking pity on someone is the first step to making their situation better."

"He even won't let me get near him, sir, as long as he thinks I'm the human equivalent of a house elf." Said Miss Henley sadly. "His pride blinds him and buries him even deeper into his misery."

"Nicely said, Miss Henley. I think we shall do something about that." Dumbledore mused.

"Oh, sir, Harry Potter tried to see you this morning. I've sent him away, but he was quite adamant about it. I promised him I would tell you."

"Now listen carefully, Tara." Professor Dumbledore suddenly looked up and his piercing blue eyes hit her consciousness straight away. "Regardless of my past fondness of the boy, he mustn't get near me. Is it clear? Even if I were dying from sheer boredom, you will still tell him I cannot see him. This is vital, Miss Henley."

"Sir? What has he done to you, may I ask?"

"I want to discuss this in the evening after dinner with you and Severus. Oh, please, do send the invitation to Severus instead, Miss Henley. Hagrid has to wait."

"Hagrid's not here…!" She whispered angrily as she gritted her teeth, then she looked up at Dumbledore and giving him a soft smile, she said: "I'll take care of that, sir."

However, as soon as she sent an officially-looking message to Snape, she had the pleasure of seeing him in person.

"Professor Dumbledore's in his office, Professor Snape, sir." She said nicely and gestured towards the closed door. The man leaned on the doorframe and glowering at her, he said: "I didn't come to see Dumbledore."

"Didn't you?" Tara was surprised and she set her quill down. This was it, his revenge.

"Tell me, Miss Secretary, what does a Potions Master need to do to get his supplies? I hope you don't expect me to procure them in Diagon Alley myself?" His silk, cool voice crept up her spine and into the marrow of her bones. He didn't make an effort of hiding his irritation. His black sharp eyes eyed her malevolently.

"Supplies, sir?" Tara asked, puzzled. She didn't know anything about any supplies whatsoever.

"Yes, Miss Secretary." He hissed and leaning above her desk, his face, white with anger, was but a few inches from hers. His voice was growling dangerously like an angry dog who's about to attack, and his onyx eyes scrutinised her mercilessly. "The supplies you were supposed to order from Diagon Alley for me."

"I-I'm really sorry sir, I didn't know –"

"That the Potions Master does have neither the time nor the energy to be idling around the Diagon Alley? Oh, of course, how could you have known… After all, all you care about is bringing coffee and painting your petty little nails red, do you?"

"That-That is not true, sir." Tara whimpered, choking on her own anger.

"Why do I find it so hard to believe?" He asked nonchalantly, smacked the piece of parchment containing the ingredients on the table and was gone.

Tara grabbed the list frantically and inclosed it to a hastily written letter to Slug and Jiggers apothecary. She had just dispatched the letter, when…

"Miss Secretary?" There was the sound of Umbridge's high-pitched voice from her office door. Tara took a deep breath and put down her quill, resigned.

"For the time being, I was instructed to report all my assigned detentions to you so that you could inform the family of the rogue."

"What do you mean, Professor, _for the time being?_ " Tara asked and casted the pink woman a sceptical look. Dumbledore removed the boring duty of informing the parents that their offspring are being either in detention or in hospital from the Heads of Houses and now it was Tara's responsibility to handle it,

"Let's put it this way, my dear, because I know you are just a poor weed of a witch and all you can do is fill out your parchments – I wouldn't advise you to get used to your comfortable chair too much because as soon as _I can_ , I will have you replaced by someone more… _reliable_."

"Do you think there's something wrong with me, Madam Under-Secretary?" Asked Tara, gritting her teeth, resisting an urge to curse Umbridge beyond her wits.

"Let's say that your family background is quite… _questionable_." Umbridge gave her a sweet smile of a dormant serpent and Tara felt her anger boiling in her cheeks.

"Yes, ma'am, I will take care of the detention report." Tara murmured through her clenched teeth and snatched the teacher's pink piece of parchment which the teacher gracefully held towards her in her fat hand.

As soon as the door closed shut behind her, Tara quickly casted a silencing spell and cried out with frustration: "You little fat cow!"

However, when well into the evening, her feelings of frustration were already gone and pure excitement filled her feeble soul. At last, the thing why she came to the castle. She would be initiated into it with Snape – and although it was with Snape, Tara couldn't stop smiling over the prospect of doing something really useful than just pretending to be a secretary.

-oOo-

"I am aware of your contempt of my secretary, Severus." Dumbledore said and casted his piercing blue eyes at the dark wizard. Tara shuddered by the look at those celestial eyes of his. Just like the eyes of her great-grandfather, she thought.

"However, you two are my secret weapons, the aces in my sleeve, so you need to cooperate."

"Really? An ace in your sleeve, Dumbledore? Any witch can make you a coffee, no doubt about that." Snape smirked malevolently.

"Stop your witty comments, Severus, and listen to me. Miss Henley is not just a secretary. Or, rather, she poses as a secretary, but that's not the main reason she's here."

Tara felt this was the moment she could seize. To finally stand up for herself. Not only hide behind Dumbledore's sleeve, but live up to who she really was. She rose, her gaze unforgiving and unyielding. As soon as he knew she wanted to continue speaking for herself, Dumbledore sat down and listened.

"That's right." She said and challenged Snape silently with her dark brown eyes. "I'm sorry you swallowed the bait, but I was never supposed to just make coffee – regardless of what you may or may not believe." She snickered, but continued dominating the space. This was her moment. She would be giving it all away.

"You must promise me never to speak of anything I'm about to tell you." She demanded. Her eyes reflected the fire and her long hair streamed down her back like a black curly waterfall. She was ready to spread her wings and take off.

The man sitting in front of her nodded curtly and Professor Dumbledore said: "You can rely on Severus' secrecy. As soon as you are finished, he will tell you a secret himself." Snape cast him a dark look, but she continued.

"When I finished school, I began working at the Department of Mysteries. We did a very dangerous work, something which I can never tell you about, because I'd be sent to Azkaban in the instant I would have told you. I can assure you of one thing: I never harmed anyone with any intention to do so, and I never killed anyone. I tried to do my work as well as I could, and I was convinced that if properly used, my results could help wizardkind. And I assure you I always did it with good intentions. However, my work back then could be considered immoral and improper by many. After some time, my own consciousness started to appeal to me that my pursuit was dishonest after all, so I stopped my research at the Department of Mysteries and wanted to become an Auror. I enrolled in the training programme and was nearly finished when the Ministry changed its mind. I was considered too shy and unfit to work as an Auror, and I was suspended and worked in a Ministry office for a few months. But this wasn't what I wanted to do. I didn't consider my office work beneficial, and I wanted to go on with my training – only a few weeks remained to finish and I would have become a defender of the good. Somebody in the Ministry didn't want me to continue. But then Professor Dumbledore contacted me – little did it matter to him that my training wasn't finished, he considered me an adequate candidate nevertheless. And luckily for him, since I never finished it, I'm not registered as an Auror. And the main reason he wanted me is to look after Harry Potter's safety. Now that Umbridge is in the castle, the fewer people know of my training, the better."

"I'm slightly disinclined to believe you." Snape narrowed his eyes. "Maybe because you omitted so many details I find your story lacking its credibility. So am I now supposed to believe you that you are something more than an office kneazle? What does it matter now anyway? Umbridge is evil, but I don't believe she's pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord to attempt for Potter's life. And no real harm can befall Potter from the people within the castle's walls."

"Remember, Severus, you'll be needed to maintain your cover as a Death Eater who's risen from his ashes. There might be a time when you might not be able to help Harry. That's why Miss Henley is here – no one will expect her to be capable of much. And besides – Dolores Umbridge may not be a Death Eater herself, but we both know she is evil enough to actually attempt to physically harm Harry – actually, I believe this is why Fudge has sent her here, besides other things."

"For information and to break Potter's spirit?" Snape said with a quizzical look.

"Yes, and Miss Henley will attempt to thwart her plans whenever possible."

"I will not let her into your office and I will not let her harm Harry. I will fight her if I have to, but she's not wreaking havoc in this school." Miss Henley said firmly and walked in front of her document cabinet to demonstratively shield it from harm.

"This is why I need you two to cooperate." Dumbledore said and cast Severus a pregnant look. "Something tells me Fudge will even attempt to overtake this school and have me removed, I need someone to rely on in this school. If everything else fails, you two will secure the safety of Harry Potter and all the other students, do you promise me that?"

"I do." Said Severus and Tara in unison.

"But sir, Umbridge wants me removed."

"Unfortunately for her, Miss Henley, she has little say in that." Dumbledore assured her.

"For now." She stated glumly.

"Do you expect me to retire so soon?" The Headmaster gave a soft smile.

Tara looked at Snape with great anxiety. She hoped they could leave their reciprocal animosity behind. Maybe… Just maybe, they could even become friends?

"Headmaster, I assume you know more details about her than I do, and this makes you trust her completely." Snape furrowed his eyebrows and glowered at Tara. "She wasn't a part of the Dark Lord's inner circle, this much I can tell, whether or not she worked directly or indirectly for him is beyond me. Why else would she label her work at the Department of Mysteries as _biased_? The Department of Mysteries is not a dangerous department on its own, hoverer, I do know that some of their work is questionable and cannot be spoken about. I'm not the one she should seek forgiveness from, even if she did something wrong. But for the time being, I don't think she gave me a sufficient number of details to make me believe her."

"So you won't tell me why I should believe you either." Tara's big brown eyes were fixed on his face.

"No. Maybe later. Maybe when you tell me more of yourself as well. As a matter of fact, I don't even know I should tell you at all – after all, all the Headmaster asks of us is to cooperate. We can surely do that without getting- (he glowered at her) _private_."

"As you wish." She shrugged her shoulders. "But I need to be sure you won't drag me to You-know-whom. He did terrible things to my family, you know."

"Why would he be interested in _you_?" Snape looked down at her.

"None of your business." The cheeks in her pale face got red again. "But just as a point of interest – he'd really like to kill me if he ever knew who I was."

"Right after his downfall, Severus switched sides." Dumbledore said. "I know the reason, he may tell you later if he sees fit – but he did. I have him posed as a Death Eater to gain information from the Dark Lord."

"I've clearly said that I didn't trust her!" Barked Snape.

"But I do, Severus." Dumbledore said a gave Tara a soft smile.

"Okay, calm down." Tara put her hand on Snape's shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore trusts us both equally, despite the fact we don't know enough yet to do the same."

"We don't even know if she can do Occlumency – my life can be at stake, Dumbledore!" Snape shouted, now pointing his wand at Tara.

"Don't worry about Occlumency, Severus." Said Dumbledore and waved his hand casually.

"I learnt it when I worked at the Ministry and then basics of it again when I was training." Said Tara.

"You'll show me soon enough." He smirked and Tara felt shivers running up her spine.

"You better not try it, Professor." She said, the tone of warning in her voice. "You might be unpleasantly surprised at what you would find there."

"I'm sure all doubts will disappear over time and that with enough explanations, you will both be able to understand one another better." Concluded Dumbledore. "Now I'd like to discuss Harry more."

"Potter? Again? Why is it always Potter?!" Severus frowned.

"I'm afraid – There might be a connection between Harry's mind and Voldemort's." Said Dumbledore seriously. Tara gasped: "So that's why you didn't want him in your office!"

"Yes, Miss Henley, exactly."

"How do you know? Can we know for sure?" Asked Snape.

"Not yet. I'm waiting for the connection to manifest somehow."

"Will he be able to manipulate him?" Tara asked, worried significantly.

"We don't know anything right now. Watch him closely, maybe time gives us the answers." Whispered Dumbledore.

"Then he must be taught Occlumency too!" Tara exclaimed.

"I don't think so." Said Snape. "The Dark Lord could easily find out about that, and then he'll know we know. We need to be one step ahead."

"Right. But do you want to leave him bare? Unprotected?" Asked Tara. They both matter-of-factly sat next to one another, side to side, and began discussing the possibilities.

"Potter will never learn Occlumency, even if the most patient teacher on the world taught him. Which I'm definitely not." He smirked and Tara laughed softly.

"But what can happen? Can he be possessed, like Ginevra Weasley?" Asked Tara. Severus turned his head to look at her with some sort of interest flicking through his gaze.

"No." He said slowly. "We don't know yet. But I don't suspect the type of connection between Potter and the Dark Lord be the same as with the Dark Lord and his victims. The bond is unwanted, after all."

"I'm thrilled at what else you might know about him, Professor," said Tara, "I've always been a keen observer. So do we wait? Do we wait when something happens, so that we might fix it afterwards?"

"I guess we do." Said Snape. "We cannot fix anything without actually knowing what is there to prevent, can we?" Tara gave a soft chuckle again.

They were totally absorbed by the conversation and when they finally looked at Dumbledore, the chair was empty.

-oOo-

As Tara was walking to the Great Hall for breakfast, she couldn't help feeling oddly satisfied. She looked forward to a little bit of respect Snape might show her, after she uncovered her identity for him the previous evening. As she sat down, she cast him a little smile. She tried to say: "Nice to see you! I want to be your friend! You don't have to be so harsh with me, you know!"

"Still after the Potions Master, eh?" Asked Aurora, who sat down beside her and grinned.

"I'm not _after him_ , I'm just trying to show him… some kindness of heart."

"Beating a dead horse." Aurora mumbled with her mouth full of scrambled eggs.

As Tara was looking at Aurora, she could now see that an arm clothed in a dark blue coat and black cloak separated her from Aurora. Professor Snape was leaning on his arm, squeezing himself in between the two chairs.

"Good morning, Miss Henley." He said.

Her cheeks got pink instantly, but she gave him a broad smile and said: "Good morning, Professor Snape!"

"Have a nice day." He gave a smirk, which Tara concluded would be an attempt of a smile, and as she watched him leave the Great Hall, she thought that this was the first time he called her by her real name. Was this the beginning of their friendship? Tara couldn't see why not, he tried to be nice to her, after all, wishing her good morning and all. She sipped her pumpkin juice absent-mindedly.

"That was odd, wasn't it?" Said Aurora. "One would think he sees something in you too!"

 _Can't you think about anything else than who's hitting on whom, woman?!_ Tara thought, and as she wanted to make clear for Aurora that she definitely wasn't seeking a romantic relationship with him, she said: "Does a leaflet rock the hero?"

Aurora spluttered her toast in laughter. She laughed so much that even the other teachers and several students started to pay attention to them. Tara furrowed her brows in confusion at what she'd just said. She tried to correct herself: "When will the fish pause within the clarified affair?"

Aurora was laughing so hard she was sprawled on the table and tears were running down her cheeks.

"H-He slipped you a Babbling Beverage, that bastard!" Aurora snorted and, still laughing, started to choke on her bacon.

"No, he didn't, and stop calling him that!" Tara wanted to say, but instead, she said only: "The gentle slang features the sock!"

"Of course!" Aurora was practically only snorting right now and gave up on finishing her breakfast. Feeling offended that someone was laughing at her, and quite embarrassed, now that she knew Aurora was right about the Babbling Beverage, Tara decided to leave the Hall.

"Good morning, Miss Henley, I need you to review the school's monthly budget to see whether we could ask for more money from the Ministry for teachers' salaries." Dumbledore greeted her and handed her the parchment.

"The admirable believer cautions with a potential." Replied Tara.

"Pardon me?" Dumbledore said politely.

"Past the weird beer flashes the beautiful straw!" Said Tara, frustrated that no one could understand her.

The old man broke into a cordial laugh: "I see! That must've been Severus' revenge! Try not to talk to anyone for the next few hours, Miss Henley."

"The shot gasoline riots." Sighed Tara and started going through the budget.

She tried to avoid visitors as much as possible, but when Umbridge called and wanted to speak to Professor Dumbledore, there wasn't anything Tara could do. So she knocked on the Headmaster's office, squeezed herself through the door, and said: "Its temper believes beside the paranoid!"

"Of course, Miss Henley." Dumbledore chuckled – even him seemed never to have enough of Tara's nonsensical babbling.

"What is she saying, Dumbledore?" Umbridge asked, obviously irritated.

"Nothing, Professor, nothing to be concerned about." Dumbledore beckoned at her to sit down. "What can I do for you?"

"This Educational Decree number twenty-three," Umbridge rolled out the parchment, "establishes me as the school's High Inquisitor." She declared pompously and looked around with satisfaction, seeking the expressions of their faces.

"The cardboard rat adjusts the ghost!" Tara exclaimed, her face surprised.

"Exactly." Dumbledore nodded at her, smiling, and then turned to Umbridge, whose face was getting pink.

"Is this some kind of secret code, Dumbledore?" She asked sharply.

"The closet sickens beside the release!" Tara exclaimed again, one side glance from the Headmaster silenced her.

"Not at all, Professor, my secretary just drank some Babbling Beverage this morning. I'll be looking forward to some kind-hearted inquisitions." He winked at Umbridge, indicating the conversation was over, and closed himself again inside his office.

"I'm more than certain you're using some sort of a secret code to subvert my authority." Umbridge hissed at Tara, her eyes nothing more than two evil slits. "I swear– on the Minister's life– that the minute I have this school under control, you are fired." She grinned at Tara, snatched her degree and walked out.

Tara shrugged her shoulders and continued writing. She didn't believe in empty threats.

-oOo-

"Did you tell Professor Dumbledore I wanted to see him?" Harry stood in front of Miss Henley. He didn't like the woman at all. He was sure she only denied him answers for her own pleasure, nothing more. He was sure that Miss Henley was another evil offspring of the strict Ministry policy and that she was no better than Umbridge.

"Yes, I did. And I also told you I would send you an owl when he decides to see you."

"I didn't receive any."

"That's because Professor Dumbledore isn't available."

"It's been over two weeks ago, what has he been doing this whole time?"

"That's not your business, is it, Potter?" She said.

"You're lying to me." Said Harry, boiling inside. He suddenly felt a strong desire to harm this woman, to curse her, to make her feel the same pain he felt upon being denied access to the only person who ever loved him.

"I'll curse you if I have to." Harry said dangerously.

"I don't think so, Harry." Professor Dumbledore stood at the door, his wand in his hand. "Go to your common room, ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor for threatening a school staff. Have a good day." With these words, the Headmaster disappeared in his office again.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry yelled, he wanted to stop him, but the Headmaster was already gone.

"What happened to your hand?" Asked Tara. She could see the words "I won't tell lies." embedded into his skin – the words were there, and the wound looked like it has just sealed itself.

"That's not your business." He retorted and was gone.

When Tara's workday ended and she went out for a walk in the somehow sunny September late afternoon, the door of Dumbledore's office was barged open by a tall man with long hair and equally long beard. The Headmaster looked up from his parchments he was reading with eager attention, and his smile froze on his lips.

"She wanted to be here – I said yes." Breathed out the old man in the door. "I warned her against you, I told her what you were capable of. But she's as pig-headed as a mule. So I told her: 'Fine, you go there and you see for yourself how you are treated.' But I don't want to see her hurt, do you understand that?! So I give you one last chance, Albus. I give you one last chance not to mess up your family."

When Albus Dumbledore overcame the shock of seeing his own brother in his office, he said meekly: "Nice to see you, Aberforth. Be so kind and tell me who are we talking about?"

"Tara, whom else?" His older brother growled.

"Miss Henley? What do you have to do with her?"

"You don't wish to piss me off, do you, Albus? Don't you bloody know she's my great-granddaughter?"

"No." Albus gasped and looked at his brother with a great surprise. "I didn't know that."

"As if you would even care." Aberforth grunted and turned around to leave.

"You haven't told me much about your life, Aberforth, after– after her death. How could I have known you had a great-granddaughter?"

"You tell me. You were always the brilliant one." Aberforth snarled and left the office.

-oOo-

Her great-grandfather was unusually quiet when Tara went to visit him. He just sat behind the great wooden table in his small kitchen adjacent to the inn and watched her silently with his sad blue eyes which seemed a bit watery.

"What's the matter, papa?" Tara asked him as she waved her wand. The broom began to sweep the floor, the dishes began to wash themselves in the sink and the windows opened wide, letting in some desperately needed air – the room was beginning to feel musty.

"Have you not cleaned this place at all when I was away? What did I tell you about being clean, papa?"

"Nothin's with me, child. Has he been working you harsh?"

"Professor Dumbleredore's been working me alright, papa." Said Tara reassuringly and went upstairs to help her great-grandfather clean the house. A few seconds later, the old man with wiry beard could hear his great-granddaughter's cry from upstairs: "Papa! What have I told you about letting Martin into your bed?! It's disgusting! Shoo, you old stinker, go, go downstairs, go!"

An old goat scuttled down the steep wooden stairs and looking most upset, it bleated at Aberforth, demanding justice.

"Ol'boy, when she says you can't sleep there, you can't sleep there." Mumbled Aberforth, and petting the old he-goat with one hand, he stroke his beard absent-mindedly. The old man watched his beloved grandchild as she walked down the stairs, as she had done innumerable number of times in her life, the dirty sheets floating behind her.

"You didn' have to change into your working clothes – I mean, you didn' have to clean this place all up for me, I would have let you relax…"

"Nonsense, papa." Tara gave him a reassuring smile and tightened a grey headband which held her unruly curls back from her face. "As long as I'll live, I'll take care of you."

"Such a pity your dear mother didn't live to see you turn such a handy witch." Aberforth said, his voice husky, and blew his noise loudly into an old, dirty handkerchief.

"Oh, papa, gimme that!" Tara said, her voice a bit reprimanding, and snatched the handkerchief from his hand. Giving her grandfather a wide smile, she said: "I'll give you a new one."

"Look, child –" Aberforth rose to stand close to his granddaughter as she washed the sheets with magic, "I want you to be really careful there. There's this bloke – the dark, tall, Potions teacher - he's been a Death Eater once, you have to steer clear of him, I don' want you kidnapped and brought to You-Know-Whom like your poor mother and father –"

"Don't worry, papa," said Tara as she was doing the laundry, "Professor Snape's a nice guy, if you get to know him more. And he's a reformed Death Eater – Professor Dumbledore says so – so I don't really think –"

"Fifteen years ago, he was spyin' on the Headmaster and some woman talkin'. I had to kick him outta here, so remind him when you see him, tell him that you're Aberforth's girl and he sees him anywhere near you –"

"Snape was spying?" Tara asked, surprised.

"Yeah, sniffin' round like a stray dog he was, clear that he wanted to sniff out somethin' – don' ask me what or for whom, 'cause I don't know – the only bit I've heard myself is the gruff voice of that woman – but when she went downstairs again, she spoke in her usual, clear voice – what was that I don' know, but the Headmaster was doin' somethin' there with her, I don' know what –"

Tara desperately wanted to change the subject: "Papa, isn't it strange that you have the same surname as Professor Dumbledore? – I mean, wizards aren't a numerous kin, and with a surname like that – are you sure you aren't related?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?!" Said Aberforth sharply and his warm attitude to his granddaughter was gone, "we aren't related and we've never been, how many times do I have to –"

"Alright, alright." Tara tried to pacify her grandpa. Whenever she brought Professor Dumbledore's name around, her papa boiled over – she didn't know why. But she had no reason to distrust her own papa. If he says they weren't related, then they weren't.

During the weekend of Tara's visit, the Hog's Head offered quite a changed menu. Instead of the usual tasteless cabbage soup and stale bread, the customers could now experience juicy roast beef and potatoes, creamy chicken broth and crunchy, golden-baked apple strudel. Tara made sure that the outside of the tavern looked inviting, too, and now everything was clean and a mouth-watering smell wafting from the wide-open windows surprised occasional passers-by. At Saturday midday, the inn was completely packed, and poor Aberforth had a hard time running from one table to another with orders. Finally, Tara showed up at the doorway of the kitchen, wiped sweat from her forehead with a sweeping gesture of her hand and with a commanding "You sit down now, papa!" she waved her wand and the dishes loaded with her delicious creations all sprang from the kitchen and began floating to their eager recipients.

"Well, I tell you, Aberforth, your granddaughter should be working here full-time – Merlin's beard, the meat is delicious!" Cried Mr. Ceridwen, the local cauldron shop owner. Mr Spintwitch was nodding frantically and anxiously asked Tara if he could have that delicious broth, too.

"You're going the wrong way, Mr Spintwitch!" Tara gave a hearty laugh and one bowl of soup was floating through the air towards the sports shop keeper. "Soup should go first, main course second!"

"You're ruinin' my reputation, my darling." Aberforth murmured – but he, too, seemed never to have enough of his granddaughter's cooking – "this place is famous for being foul and uninviting – my old customers won't be goin' here anymore!"

"Nice try, papa, you're the only lodging establishment in town!" Tara answered him cheekily and the whole company roared with laughter.

-oOo-

So she was greatly surprised to find a piece of parchment on her dressing table in her room saying: _Miss Henley, could you please come over to my personal chamber to see me?_ She was overjoyed before she read the end – the wretched poor creature of a girl thought the message was from Snape – and her smile faded when she read Dumbledore's signature. So, having freshened up, she put on a pink dressing gown and went into the Headmaster's office. As she went through the dimly lit corridors, she wondered what it was that the Headmaster wanted from her. _Maybe he cannot sleep,_ she thought. _Maybe he wants me to bring him a Sleeping Draught from Snape._

"Look at you." Dumbledore welcomed her warmly in his sitting room. He patted her at her shoulders warmly and beckoned with his hand towards a very comfortable armchair. "Would you have a glass of mead, Miss Henley?"

"I rarely drink, Professor." She gave a weak smile and watched him as he poured her a small glass. "But as you insist…"

"Here you are." The old man said, overjoyed, and everything about him suggested he felt very, very happy. His blue eyes sparkled and there was a wide smile on his lips. Miss Henley gratefully took the glass and watched her superior intently.

"Those big brown eyes of yours, I never seem to have enough of them – did you get them after your mother or your father?"

Thinking what a strange question that was, Tara replied: "Why, after my father, sir. My mother's eyes were of the clear blue colour, sir."

"Why do you say 'had', my dear?"

"My mother is dead, sir. She was killed, together with my father when I was a child of seven or eight years old."

"You don't know how terribly sorry I am to hear this." Dumbledore patted her hand and looked her straight into her eyes. His piercing blue ones seemed to be very investigative. "But those who loved us never truly leave us. They are kept alive by your caring memory."

Tara gave him a faint smile, not knowing what to reply.

"And it was your grandparents who took care of you, weren't they?"

"No, sir, my grandparents were long dead then, they died of dragonpox."

"Poor child!" Exclaimed Dumbledore and refilled Tara's glass. "Such a nice girl, and orphaned at such a small age!"

"No, sir, my – (Tara briefly hiccupped on the mead) – my great-grandfather took care of me, and still does, poor fellow – you should sometimes meet him, he lives in the village nearby."

"Maybe." Dumbledore gave a lukewarm smile and fixed his gaze on her.

"Sir, why did you want to see me?" Tara said uncertainly, hoping for the old man to give her an explanation why she had to sit in his dimly lit sitting room at this hour.

"Because I wanted to get to know you a bit better." Tara looked at her folded hands in her lap, her ears red as two chilli peppers.

"Can I call you by your first name, for a start?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he raised his glass up to have a toast.

Tara felt like she couldn't say no to him. So she hesitatingly raised her glass and nodded. After sipping some more of the mead, Dumbledore said: "How would you feel if I asked you to call me to call me by my first name as well, Tara?"

Tara really started to feel that she was being pushed somewhere she didn't want to go: "I don't think I would like to do that, sir."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with it."

"Forgive me, sir, but I'd like to keep my respectful stance from you." Tara answered, her voice trembling with uneasiness, and cast him an unhappy glance. "I don't feel worthy enough to call you that, you, of all people. I'm a great admirer of yours, sir, and I wouldn't like to spoil it."

"I see where you're going, Tara." Dumbledore said, his smile somehow fading.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tara, there's someone I should get you acquainted with." Dumbledore's head appeared in the doorway and winked mischievously.

She looked up, put her quill down and stood up: "Of course, sir."

"Dobby is very very happy to meet Miss Dumbledore." The house elf ran into the office and bowed low.

"You've got it confused, elf." Mumbled Tara and wondered why Professor Dumbledore wanted her to meet an elf the likes of which worked invisibly in the castle.

"Dobby is a very special elf." Said the Headmaster, as if he were reading her thoughts.

"Dobby is a friend of Harry Potter – is Miss a friend of Harry Potter as well?" Dobby asked.

"Eh – I've met him…" Tara said, unsure what to say.

"Excellent!" Squealed the creature. "And what does Miss think?"

"He's– eh– interesting?" Replied Tara, even more unsure.

"And does Miss know who else is Dobby friends with?" Squealed the elf and jumped at her working desk, so excited he was.

"Yes?" Asked Tara. The whole conversation was very awkward, she didn't know how to react. She has never seen such a daring elf before.

"Miss' papa!" Cried Dobby. "Dobby often comes into the inn, Miss, and helps Mr Dumbledore clean and cook and feed the goats!"

"Oh! How kind of you!" Exclaimed Tara. Her attitude was completely changed now, she liked the adventurous elf. She shook his hand cordially and the elf looked as if he would faint from pure excitement.

"Dobby gets paid, Miss!" Cried the elf.

"Truly? How extraordinary!" Said Tara, smiling.

"And you'll be giving him his salary, Tara." Said Professor Dumbledore, very amused by their encounter.

"Just a minute, Dobby, I'll go get the school cash box, and I'll give you your salary." Tara said with a gentle smile and as she retrieved the wooden box, she asked: "And how much would that be, young worker?"

The small elf swelled with pride and said: "A galleon a week, Miss!"

"And for a month? How much would that be?" Tara asked jovially, trying whether or not the elf could count. Turned out he could.

"Four galleons, Miss!" He squealed and stretched out his palm. Four gold coins fell into it and he clasped it against his clothing, squeaking: "Four galleons! Dobby has earned four galleons!"

"Use them well, Dobby." Tara gave a soft laugh and watched the elf with keen brown eyes: "What will you do with them?"

"Dobby buys socks, Miss. Socks are Dobby's favourite clothing, Miss." Replied the house-elf.

"Buy a nice pair and use it well, Dobby." Tara gave a soft chuckle and took her quill again.

"Miss looks tired. Miss has circles under her eyes. Miss would do good to visit her papa. Dobby knows a secret passage. Does Miss want to see?"

"By all means, Tara. You look awful." Said Professor Dumbledore and Tara noticed he enjoyed the situation greatly: "Go and visit your great-grandfather."

Tara let herself be guided by the small figure of a house-elf. He took her through the corridors and passages, and as she thought he was going to take her into her own rooms, he guided her into the Room of Requirement. He zigzagged skilfully through the piles of junk and rubbish and when he finally stopped and Tara could catch her breath, she was standing in front of her great-grandaunt Ariana. Having known the girl since forever, Ariana gave a gentle nod and opened the portrait.

"Thank you, Dobby." Said Tara as she watched the waving elf from the closing portrait hole.

-oOo-

Her papa couldn't be more surprised to see Tara walk with Ariana in the portrait. Having slumbered in his favourite armchair, he jumped up and rubbed his old eyes in disbelief as he saw her approaching. When his great-granddaughter stepped out of the portrait, he held out his arm to help her.

"What's the matter?" He asked anxiously.

"Papa, I don't know myself." Tara gave a chuckle. "One second I was giving Dobby his salary, the next he was dragging me through the castle towards Ariana's portrait that was in the Room of Requirement."

"There is her portrait in the castle?" Aberforth was astonished.

"Well, I suppose there is – I wonder who might have put it there."

"I think I know who that might have been." Her papa growled and, seeing his great-granddaughter after such a long time, he couldn't resist giving her a warm embrace.

-oOo-

"Why? Tell me one good reason why I can't see Professor Dumbledore." Harry said stubbornly.

"Mr Potter, stop commanding me or else I'll start commanding you as well." Tara said sourly.

"Then tell me!" Harry slammed his fist on her desk and Miss Henley jumped up from her seat.

"Harry, I strongly suggest you calm yourself down!" She cried, her cheeks flushed. "You're interrupting my work! I've told you, I don't know why Professor Dumbledore won't see you, but he's terribly busy – I'm practically running the whole school right now –"

"But I have something important to discuss!" Harry retorted, probably louder than he should have, as he realised seconds later.

"If you stop bothering me this instant, I might help you myself." Tara said sharply.

"Si- My godfather told me about an aunt of mine. I hadn't known about her, she's supposed to be my mother's twin sister. I've been raised by my mum's other sister, Petunia Dursley, and she's been one of the meanest people I've ever known. I would really – it would mean so much to me if you could tell me where she lives, or her name, or something." Harry nearly pleaded. He could see the secretary woman frown. What was her problem now? He wondered.

"I'll look into the school registry and I'll let you know." She answered him, and it seemed to Harry that her voice got colder and that she was much less enthusiastic about helping him than before.

"Did Harry shout at you again, Tara?" Dumbledore asked softly. "You must excuse him, sometimes I have a feeling that the boy's like a timebomb –"

"No, sir… May I have a minute?" Tara's brown eyes were fixed on him.

"By all means!" Dumbledore beckoned her to step into his luxuriously furnished office. Although he was her superior, she had been to his office a very few times so far. So whenever she stepped in, she couldn't help but admire its majestic beauty. But not today. Today she felt dirty and guilty. She wished the portraits weren't listening, because she knew they would judge her mercilessly.

As she sat down, she blurted: "I have to tell you, sir. I've been wanting to tell you for quite a long time now, hoping you could tell me how I could possibly redeem myself."

"Tara, this looks serious." Dumbledore studied his niece's face thoughtfully. She didn't know she was his great-niece, of course. But maybe that was his reason for hearing her out most eagerly. He hoped that he could be good enough to her that she would accept him later, even though Aberforth, after all those years, would not. But he had a long way to go now, and now he had to focus on making his niece trust him, he reminded himself.

"You've heard about the Rose case, have you, sir?"

"Yes, Tara, I've been the one who helped the Ministry wizards secure her in her Muggle house. What of it?"

"Sir, I'm going to reveal a grave, dark secret to you. Something even my papa doesn't know. If he knew –" Tara suddenly had giant tears invading her eyes, "he would have renounced me forever!"

"I'm sure he would not, Tara." Dumbledore said softly and patted her hand.

"As you probably know, Harry Potter has two aunts. They are both Muggles, not Muggle-born witches like his mother. His aunt Petunia has taken care of the boy since his first year of age – Heaven bless her for that."

"I don't think it's particularly due to any divine powers Petunia has been taking care of him, but go on." Said Dumbledore. He had his own reasons to judge Petunia, and he didn't want to get into that right now. So he resolved to let Tara speak. He might tell her later.

"And his aunt Rose – you don't even wish to know what happened to her, sir!" Tara wailed and hid her face behind her hands. "You see, Rose loved Harry more than anything else in the world. Being his mother's twin sister, she probably had even a deeper attachment to him than any other relative could have. She studied Muggle school to become a Muggle healer – doctor, that is – and she was the one who delivered baby Harry to this world. And of course, when Harry was just a year old toddler, his aunt was spending his first Hallowe'en with him." Tara furiously wiped her eyes. "We all know what happened that night. The problem was that Rose witnessed it too, hidden under James' Invisibility cloak. I worked at the Department of Mysteries at that time, sir, and I'll tell you all exactly as it happened, because it is all more than enough for me – I will risk going to Azkaban for it, because I can't bear it any longer."

"Out with it, my dear." Dumbledore patted her hand gently

"My job at the Department of Mysteries was the brain division, as we called it. We studied human minds of wizards and Muggles alike, and we tried to unlock its hidden secrets. You know, I've always being fond of the matter myself, probing the human mind until – no, that's another story. When we reached the half-collapsed house of the Potters, Harry had not been there – already in your care, probably – but there was the poor wretched soul of his aunt, wrapped in her brother-in-law's cloak, foaming, eyes popped out and completely out of her wits. We, the team of the brain division, instantly knew that this damage is far beyond any St. Mungo's ward that existed at that time. This wasn't a spell damage, so they wouldn't have treated her anyway. We took her to the Department of Mysteries and made her a prisoner there." Tara sobbed, overtaken by the weight of her actions. "Not that she would have known, really, she went positively mad. Crazy. Her eyes were spinning and all she did was foam, shake the bars of her cage and shriek. It was terrible, terrible!" Tara took the offered handkerchief and blew her nose noisily. "I couldn't see her like that, sir, I could not! She was worse than an animal, worse than an Inferi, worse than a Dementor. She was beyond anything you could imagine. No one had the heart to kill her, and there were debates as to what we should do with her exactly. All imaginable memory spells were tried on her, potions, therapies – yes, even Unforgivables. No one had the slightest idea how to help the writhing creature of a woman that we saw everyday when we came to work. But we all knew we couldn't leave her like that much longer. I was very interested in the field at that time, I specialised in short-term memory and brain twisters – illusions, that was, and despite the widely-discussed fact that an Obliviate could relieve her of her pain, no one dared to do it. It was such a deeply rooted event, it totally paralysed her, you should have seen… But anyway, I was the most daring of them all – or maybe the most compassionate? I don't know. But I knew that we had to act quickly. They have already held her captive for more than ten years, sir, ten miserable years of unsuccessful experiments, and during those few months I've worked with her as an intern research specialist she was getting worse and worse. So I did it." Tara inhaled deeply and said: "I Obliviated her. I tried to be as much careful as I could, but the experience was so strong I couldn't get it out for a good couple of hours. Entering the mind of a lunatic and probing it… You have no idea…" Tara shook her head and her face was as white as a piece of chalk. "Finally, I did it. I did the strongest memory charm that anyone could ever conjure, and was ready to rip her mind into pieces to get it out." Tara breathed out. "And I did. Not only that, I had to remove all memories of a sister, brother-in-law and a little nephew. Anything about Petunia, too, and about Mr and Mrs Evans, and Hogwarts… Anything that could make her remember her past was undesirable and dangerous. Sir, you cannot imagine… You have no idea… Taking a madwoman and messing with her mind, I was lucky to get out of it unharmed… There were only breadcrumbs that remained, and I greatly feared that her brain would collapse altogether. But Rose was strong. After I have removed almost everything of her past life, I had to structure a new, artificial life and bury it deep into the various layers of her long-term memory. Sir, I really cannot explain to you how anxious I was, because you just don't mess up with someone's mind like that. Only for me it was possible. My father taught me – well, that's another story. The gist of it was that I could go deeper than anyone else. Try it, go and find a Memory-charm specialist of St Mungo's, he'll tell you that removing distant and deeply-rooted memories is impossible. But not for me, sir, not for me. When Rose opened her mouth, it was clear she had no idea who she was. I made her believe she was a general practitioner – a Muggle doctor. However, when she opened her mouth, I realised something went terribly wrong. Rose had her short-term memory all messed up, and try as I might, it wouldn't get better. This is the point you stepped in, sir, when you helped us place her into a home and confuse her neighbours that nothing unusual had happened and that Rose had been living in the street her entire life. You've seen her, sir. You can recall for yourself what a forgetful mess she was. But to me, it was like the sight of Paradise, because she could talk and behave like any other human being. It was the ultimate bliss for me. You understand, right? The sight of her mad self in our cage was so pitiful that I risked destroying her mind altogether just to release her from her pain? Tell me, sir, what you would have done?" Tara finished, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Even death would be more merciful than such agony… I had no idea…" Dumbledore whispered.

"And about five years later, her nephew comes prancing into my office and demand his poor aunt's address – do you understand what a turn he gave me?" Tara said, almost accusingly.

"Tara, you must never give him her address or any other information about her." Dumbledore stated firmly.

"Exactly. People or items from the past might act as triggers, and then – I believe her mind could really give way, sir. But he comes here at least once a week, I'm losing my patience. He hopes to speak to you so that he might get it."

"He must never be left alone with me in my office, I've told you that." Dumbledore said sternly.

"I know, sir. But I'm worried he could get the address elsewhere." Tara added. "That is the core of my worry. That is why I told you my deepest secret. If my papa knew, he would have been disgusted by my own boldness. Wrecking a poor soul's mind forever just because I could… Just because I'd researched things I shouldn't have in the first place… Just because one twenty-year-old witch chose to mess up with people's brains." Tara finished bitterly.

"I'm sure your great-grandfather would understand, Tara." Dumbledore's arm was squeezing her to his side. "It was – how do the Muggles call it? It was in one of their books, I think –"

"Sophie's choice?"

"Exactly. Are you keen on Muggle literature, Tara?"

"Yes, I find it relaxing."

"Well, Tara, you asked me for redemption. I believe I have no power to grant you freedom from your own haunting thoughts, not I, out of all people – I could use that forgiveness myself. But there's some advice I could give you, Tara. The power to forgive lies within you. You and you alone have to come to terms with your past and you have to forgive yourself. No one else can do that for you."

"If only I could see– If only I could see that she's happy. That would clear off all my doubts."

"You know that's impossible, Tara."

"Yeah, I know." She hung her head low. "Sir? Would you mind not telling anyone else? I– I don't want to be looked down at. No one knows how hard it was to make that choice. No one knows how she suffered in her cage at the Department of Mysteries all these years. I shouldn't have told you what had happened there at all, I could go to Azkaban for that–"

"You won't go to Azkaban for telling your own uncle." Dumbledore gave her a soft smile and patted her shoulder reassuringly. She looked at him astonished, her big brown eyes filled with shock, her lips slightly parted in silent wonder.

"Aberforth didn't want me to reveal it, but I just couldn't help myself. We all have faults to confess and I was grateful you chose to confide in me."

"Sir, you– you can't be serious– Did you know that, when you hired me?"

"No, Tara, I didn't know. It was Aberforth who stormed in here one night and told me."

"But I've asked papa many times – he has always told me you two weren't related–"

"Aberforth blames me for something which happened long ago."

"Does it have something to do with my great-aunt Ariana? Is that why you put her painting secretly to the Room of Requirement?"

"Tara," Dumbledore gave a soft smile and his eyes beyond his half-moon spectacles glistened, "you're one of the most observant people I had the pleasure to know. We will move the school registry secretly from Minerva's office to yours, don't worry, everything will be fine."

-oOo-

"Papa?" Said Tara. It was a warm Saturday evening in the beginning of October and she was knitting silently in front of her papa's fireplace in their small kitchen that also served as a living room. "Are you sure you and Professor Dumbledore aren't related?"

"Why are you asking me such stupid questions again?" Aberforth growled, being woken up from dozing. "I've already told you million times. _We're not_."

"But yes, you are." Tara retorted, putting aside her knitting. "He told me himself!"

"What?!" Cried Aberforth and jumped to his feet. "He didn'!"

"Yes, he did. He said you told him. Why were you lying to me, papa?! Why were you lying to me all these years I've spent with you?!" Her accusing tone pierced his heart through like a blade. Her silent hot tears of anger almost made him want to cry too.

"I didn't want him to hurt you." He mumbled, not looking at her crying face. "He's the reason Aunt Ariana is dead."

"He said he wasn't sure which spell it was–"

"That doesn' matter. Grindelwald was his friend. He took him into our house."

"No one can assume responsibility for their friends' actions." Tara said. "If you only knew how deeply he regrets it!"

"I don' believe that." Spat Aberforth.

"Yes, he does. I can't even recall how many times have I been summoned into the Headmaster's room and found him in a desperate state, begging me for sitting up with him a little. 'It was all my fault' he kept saying, and I didn't know what he meant, so I learnt to approach these midnight states of delusion with a grain of salt. But now I know his regrets are real, papa, please, have mercy on him, he even can't sleep because of that!"

"He only started to act like that after he had told you you were his niece." Insisted Aberforth.

"No, he's been like that since I've started working there. Please, papa." Tara knelt in front of her papa's armchair and took both his hands imploringly into hers. "I'm not saying what he did wasn't wrong. All I'm saying is that people should be allowed to regret their past crimes and atone for them. If only you knew how much he wishes to get on well with you again. Especially when he found out about me." She smiled gently.

"I'm– eh– I'm goin' to think about that." Said Aberforth evasively, already halfway persuaded by his great-granddaughter whom he couldn't deny anything on the world. "Hasn' he asked you to plead with me?"

"No, that's entirely my foolish idea." Tara gave a soft smile.

"He doesn' deserve you, my darling." Aberforth said affectionately, stroking Tara's hair gently. "I don' want to reconnect with him mainly because of you. I…" His voice was husky. "I don' want to lose you too." He said and blew his nose into a handkerchief.

"I'm not Ariana, papa." Tara said firmly. "I can control my magic. I can fend for myself. If someone attacks me, I can fight for myself. And uncle Albus has learnt his lesson."

"Time will tell me." Murmured the old innkeeper. "In the meantime, you can tell your dear uncle that Potter is plotting a secret army."

"What?!"

"I've overheard him arrangin' a meetin' with those kids in my pub. He thought I was crazy so never paid me much attention. They're callin' themselves 'Dumbledore's Army' and they're plottin' somethin' against an Umbridge woman or a thing like that."

Tara stroke his cheek: "Thank you for telling me, papa."

-oOo-

It was very, very unusual for Tara to be so hastily summoned in the middle of the October night. She even didn't have time to dress up. She quickly ran to the Headmaster's office. The candles were lit and there were people talking.

"And there it was, attacking Mr Weasley!" Harry breathed out, shaking. He was all sweaty and confused of his dream-like vision. It was the first time Professor Dumbledore had ever admitted the boy into his office. It couldn't escape Tara's notice that her uncle avoided eye-contact when speaking to Harry Potter. She stood there in her nightgown, anxiously watching.

"You called, Headmaster?" Severus appeared noiselessly at the doorway next to her.

"Severus, it has happened." Dumbledore said plainly. Harry got confused. What was "it"? Did it mean that Dumbledore anticipated the attack? Why on earth didn't he prevent it, then. Harry was furious with the old man. Furious with his cowardice. The old fool wouldn't even look him into his eyes.

"Severus, could you?"

"Headmaster, I think Miss Henley would be more authorised to do it. After all, she has spent many years researching, hasn't she?"

"Tara?" Dumbledore said, not turning towards them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked furiously. He was panting and sweating. There was a man, a dying man, they had to something, they had to get him out of the corridor…

"DO SOMETHING!" He bellowed. Everyone jumped. He could hear the vicious woman of a secretary saying: "Calm down, Mr Potter."

"Where were you whilst you witnessed the attack?"

"I-I think– I wasn't there, sir, it's been just a dream." Said Harry. He couldn't have teleported to the Ministry of Magic, attacked Mr Weasley and then teleported back to Hogwarts, could he?

"Of course, Mr Potter. We all know it was just a dream." Said the secretary. "Professor Dumbledore wants to know whether you watched as a spectator or whether you were watching from Mr Weasley's point of view."

"I-I was the snake." Said Harry helplessly. Ronald Weasley and Professor McGonagall cast him disbelieving glances.

"Minerva, could you go and wake up the rest of the Weasley children?"

"Tara?" Dumbledore bid her as the door banged shut after Professor McGonagall.

"If the possessor has excellent control over the animal, it might be possible for his mind to be present as well." Said Tara. "Although we don't usually study things like that. It would require an extremely unusually strong bond with the animal and we have not found such a strong wizard– But there is a theoretical presumption it could be possible, especially if the subject has been known for possessing minds in the past."

"If he could have done it with Quirrell, then why not with the snake?" Said Snape.

"I DID NOT CONTROL THE SNAKE!" Bellowed Harry.

"Miss Henley, why don't you take Mr Potter to your office for a cup of hot chocolate?" Asked Dumbledore calmly. When he saw Harry opening his mouth in protest, he added: "I'll take care of everything else."

Harry found himself being dragged into the adjacent office. Miss Henley seated him into one of the plush armchairs rather roughly, and conjuring a cup of steaming cocoa covered with whipped cream, she said kindly: "You've had a terrible nightmare, Harry. It's just right for you to breathe deeply and calm yourself down a bit."

"But I don't want to rest, I want to help–" Harry stammered, but Miss Henley silenced him mercilessly by thrusting the cup into his hands and ordering him to have a sip. He obeyed, finding the beverage surprisingly satisfying. He swallowed a few more cups and found out he felt much better now. He didn't even know why he was so insistent on helping – it would have been much better to crawl into his warm bed and sink into sweet slumber!

"Now, Harry," Miss Henley bent towards him across the table and giving a warm smile, said: "Remember the dream. Replay it in your head, I want to see it."

Not really knowing why he obeyed this strange woman, he complied. Maybe because she gave him such a delicious cocoa – would she give him more if he obeyed?

"Don't close your eyes," he could hear her voice, "look at me."

The instant his green eyes met her brown ones, he found her gaze imbibing into his. The next thing he knew, he was sucked into his own head, repeating the dream. Miss Henley walked next to him, watching silently, as his slick scales slid on the floor. He could see Arthur Weasley dozing on the ground… He wanted to attack him, he so desperately wanted to dig his sharp fangs into his warm body…

-oOo-

There was a light tap at his classroom door. _Unusual_ , he thought, _I rarely get disturbed during my lessons. If it is not the insufferable Ministry Inquisitor, that is_. As the door opened, he could see the pretty little head of Dumbledore's secretary peeping shyly into the classroom.

"Um, I… Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you." She stammered, and she wished she could do anything but talk to the disagreeable professor. He turned around from the blackboard and casted her a very, very stern look.

"I am not available now, Miss Secretary." He said dryly.

"But sir, he said it was urgent and that I was to fetch you."

"Fetch yourself what you like, Miss Secretary, but some people cannot go wandering the castle whenever they please." He retorted and was more and more disagreeable.

"I can watch the classroom for you, sir, until you return." She suggested shyly and could see his dark eyes flicking dangerously in her direction.

"Very well then." He said with a wicked smile and walked swiftly amongst the cauldrons, his cloak billowing after him. "Sleeping Concoction. You surely know on what page you can find it, or how to prepare it, because, as you said, you could watch the classroom." He finished with a smirk and a few Slytherin students gave an amused chuckle.

"Of course, Professor, Intermediate Potions, page 457." She answered with a blush and a faint smile. His wicked smirk froze on his lips and he flicked his eyes after her one more time before he exited the classroom.

"Continue watching your potions!" She yelled anxiously. "Give them a stir when they start to turn pink and don't let them turn red!"

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Snape asked politely, but his years of experience told Dumbledore the man was cross. No wonder, Snape hated being disturbed in whatever he was just doing, and Dumbledore was sure the man would blame his secretary for the disturbance and disorder in his class when he would return.

"The connection between Harry's mind and Voldemort's is getting stronger. I need you to teach him Occlumency, Severus." The old man said.

"Do you think I don't have enough work?" The man smirked. "I wouldn't count teaching Potter privately as one of my favourite pass-times, Dumbledore."

"Severus, please." The man looked at him helplessly. "With Voldemort's free access to Harry's mind, we're all vulnerable. Especially him. Can you imagine what the Dark Lord could make him do? You and I are both aware of the exceptional powers of persuasion he has. He could convince him of anything and the poor boy's mind is too weak to resist, we both know that. If that's not enough, remember Ginny Weasley."

"Alright." The man grunted and gritted his teeth. Dumbledore gave a smile and nodded. The tall slender man turned around and walked out of his office. They have grown to understand each other very well. So well that Severus knew he couldn't offend Dumbledore with his behaviour. The old man knew him too well.

When he walked back into his classroom, the pupils were at work. Miss Henley was pacing between the cauldrons with a shy smile and observed the endeavour of the students. He casted a few glimpses at their potions and could see only few which didn't meet his expectations. She clearly gave them advice, he thought, something which he would have never done. Now he would have to give them exceptionally good marks. _I'll find a way out of having to mark their potions_ , he thought, _I won't give them good grades._

"Professor?" She gave him a very nice smile and fixed her eyes on him. _I got this_ , her eyes said. _I got this and you have nothing to do about that._

"Miss Henley." He said curtly and held the door for her in a silent hope she would leave immediately.

"They are a very good class, they've all managed their potions very well." She gave a wide smile again and looked round the class in a patronising way.

"You don't teach this subject, Miss Henley, I do." He almost snapped at her. "As a person from outside, it's obvious you're quite lenient. Your words of praise are not at all adequate."

Her smile froze, she understood that he wasn't going to let her win. She walked swiftly towards the door he was holding, and said: "I still consider the majority of the potions well-made. Good day to you, Professor." She walked out of the class swiftly, leaving him in charge of closing the door after her. He banged it shut and walked towards his writing desk, his cloak billowing behind him. The class got completely silent, they all saw Miss Henley had angered him greatly.

"I won't be marking your foolish attempts today. Consider yourselves lucky, you were left in charge with an incompetent individual – that is to the reason of why you won't receive your marks. Potter, stay behind, your potion was the worst of all. I'll probably have to teach you how to chop your moon petals properly, it seems you can't even hold your knife right."

Harry put on a sulky face and reluctantly stayed behind. Ron looked utterly bewildered because he liked the lesson and could see nothing wrong with it. The only person as sulked as Harry was Hermione who felt greatly offended – she believed she managed to brew an exceptionally good Sleeping Concoction, even Miss Henley said so, and all her efforts were wasted.

"Tuesday, 7 p.m., my office. You'll be taught what the Headmaster thinks necessary for you to learn."

Harry's eyes glistened with excitement: "Does it anything to do with Vol-"

"Shut your little mouth and be off!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for letting me know this chapter got posted all messed up guys, I would have never found out without you! Big thanks goes to Skylar97, Arttimes and SaskiaWillow1201! I love you guys! ;)**

* * *

Severus Snape was just closing his office door behind him when Miss Henley appeared in the dungeon, running towards him, gasping for breath.

"Please, Professor Snape, please! You have to help me!"

"I _have to_? Interesting." Snape sneered at her. "Please, be so kind, Miss Secretary, and enlighten me about why I _have to_ help you." There was icy hatred in his voice. Students, who already knew better than Miss Henley, were quickening their pace and wanted to be out of the corridor sooner than Snape's unconquerable wrath would hit them mercilessly.

"This isn't the situation to sneer at me, Professor." She hissed at him and blocked his way into the office so that he couldn't evade her. "The Minister for Magic is in my office! And he wants Professor Dumbledore! You have to help me!"

"Just tell him he's not here, silly." Snape growled. He had neither the patience nor the energy for that. "Your only task is to tell people Dumbledore's busy. Or have you forgotten how to do that as well?"

"Stop treating me like a house-elf!" She shrieked at him. The passing students stopped doing whatever they were busy with and all stared at them, curious about what would Professor Snape do next. They all knew he wouldn't leave such cheekiness unpunished.

"I'll stop treating you like a house-elf when you stop acting like one." He smirked at her and held the door of his office open for her: "Inside with you. _Now_."

She walked in, half-reluctantly, shaking with silent rage. When he closed the door shut, she hissed at him viciously: " _You know_ why Professor Dumbledore's not here, and _you know_ the Minister for Magic must never know why, and _you know_ that the Minister for Magic is not the person to say 'no' to. You know all that and still you run me over like an idiotic, stupid twit that you are!"

"Silence." He snapped at her. He wasn't even looking at her, he was preparing vials and samples for his next lesson and he seemed not to pay her any attention.

"Can you at least _pretend_ you are listening to me?!" She retorted, leaning onto his desk so that she was challenging him face to face.

"Contrary to you, I can do multiple things at once." He smirked again and straightened his back so that they were staring at each other directly.

"You're a jerk." She hissed, hatred penetrating every cell of her body.

"And you're a ninny." Said he, without missing a beat.

"So you won't even hear me out?!" She spat at him. "You won't make the slightest effort to help Professor Dumbledore and his important research?! You'll just act like the dumb-ass you are?!"

"Who said I won't hear you out, you stupid cow?" He said, challenging her with his posture.

"Fine." She retorted, not taking her gaze off him. "If we are done firing insults at each other, we have to head straight to the Headmaster's Office, because the Minister is waiting and he's getting pretty upset."

"Tell me again why would I head back to the tower with you?" He asked lazily. She answered him by giving a large, wicked grin and held a single silver hair in front of his face. "Polyjuice Potion. I'm sure you could spare a cuppa for an emergency situation?" She added, victory apparent in her voice.

"You could have told me earlier that you wanted to dress up as Professor Dumbledore." He smirked at her nastily, making use of the opportunity to degrade her once again.

"I'm not, _you are_." She answered and watched his face go from smug to disbelief.

"You're insane if you believe I would ever do that for you." He said in a tone which suggested the discussion was over.

"Maybe I'm insane," she said and cornered him assertively so that he couldn't step aside, "but it's our only chance to keep things for Professor Dumbledore easy as they are. No –" she said quickly, seeing that he was already opening his mouth in protest, "you'll let me speak, Snape. I don't give a damn about what collusion there is between you and him. You, you haughty peacock, have to recognise that this isn't just about you and Dumbledore. Or me. Or Potter. If Professor Dumbledore cannot finish his important work concerning You-Know-Who because the Ministry meddles in, all that's good and valuable will be in danger. If you don't help me now, you can spare yourself the trouble of helping the good side _ever again_ , because there might not be anything to fight for, do you understand?!" She shook his shoulders violently. "You-Know-Who did terrible things to my family, to almost every wizarding family in our world, he must have done terrible things to you, too, as I reckon, and you don't want to help me?! Are you serious?!"

"W-Why don't _you_ drink it?" He asked, taken aback by her speech.

"Because…" She looked aside, and her cheeks got pink. "First, I promised the Minister I would bring him myself, and second… Well, he's my great-grandfather's brother."

"He's your _uncle_?!" Cried Snape, bewildered.

"Uhm." She said, her face red. "And I possibly can't… I can't be in his _body_ myself…"

"You are a little blackmailer, that's what you are, you are a terrible person and I won't lay my eyes on you ever again." He snapped, his pride hurt, and snatched the hair off her hand. Tara gave a happy smile and called a house-elf to hurry and get Professor Dumbledore's robes from his bedroom. As she was walking the corridors, and a fake copy of the Headmaster was treading beside her, she could hear him murmur: "You cornered me, you little hussy. Just you wait, you're going to return the favour with interest, you'll see!"

"Smile, idiot, that's what Professor Dumbledore always does." She hissed and nudged him secretly into his ribs. "And don't march! He always kind of strolls. And be polite! Remember, Dumbledore never insults, and if he does so, then the people usually don't know he said something." She whispered before she knocked at her own office door. Fudge jumped up from the armchair, red in the face with anger.

"Dumbledore! Where on earth have you been?! This is a school, how can you be a Headmaster if you're not even present?!"

"Minister, I hope you'll forgive me my little rendezvous I had with Hagrid." Dumbledore cried good-naturedly. "Poor Miss Henley had to search through the entire Hogsmeade to find me." The Headmaster extended his arm gracefully towards Tara to properly acknowledge her.

"Yes – if only you had a _proper_ secretary, don't you think?" Said Fudge sharply. "Dolores has already informed me of her uselessness –"

"On the contrary, Cornelius." Said Dumbledore and erected his index finger in a gesture of warning. "I would like to assure you that Miss Henley is very capable of performing all her duties and she works with diligence and precision of her own. I believe that Mrs Under-Secretary has little insight into the inner operation of my office – Miss Henley is the most capable witch for the job. Now, you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," Fudge said, his chest a bit deflated, " _alone_." He cast a side glance at Miss Henley.

"If you would, Miss Henley." Said Dumbledore, far kindlier than Fudge.

"Of course, Headmaster." Tara bowed slightly. "Can I offer you something? Coffee, tea? Biscuits, pies, sandwiches…"

"Yes, all of them, please." Dumbledore beamed at her and a little smirk couldn't escape Tara's notice – although she was more than certain Fudge hadn't seen anything.

"Of course." She gave a little smile and disappearing into her office, she huffed with exasperation and sent for a house-elf. But she couldn't help smiling slyly – they fooled Fudge! Of course, Snape was treating her like a house-elf again, but he stood up for her, didn't he? This gave Tara an elating, heartwarming feeling all over her body. With a smile on her lips, she scribbled a note and sent it through the fireplace: "Thank you for standing up for me."

A few minutes back, a fire flashed out a piece of parchment with the now familiar slanted handwriting: "I only did what Dumbledore would have done."

"I don't believe you," said Tara with a soft smile on her lips, "I freakin' don't believe you."

.oOo-

"Doctor Gallagher?" The nurse's head appeared in a tiny slit in the door. "There's a boy who wants to see you."

It was a sunny, chilly day at the end of December. Doctor Gallagher didn't have many patients waiting that day, because many people had gone out of town or to the mountains or on other kinds of holidays.

"Tell him to wait in the waiting room just like anyone else." The doctor said sternly. Doctor Gallagher wanted everything to be organised. No one would jump the queue in her waiting room, even though the Christmas holidays were a relaxed time of year. No, she will have order. It was the matter of principle, the matter of the rules of her own personal universe. The woman sat rigidly at the front of her seat and pushed her glasses higher towards the root of her nose. Doctor Gallagher didn't like surprises.

"He says he's not here for consulting, doctor." The nurse shrugged her shoulders and seemed to be at the edge of her reason. "He says it's a family business."

"Still, he has to wait in the line just like the rest of the patients." Answered the doctor coldly and continued writing her previous report. "How long have I told you, Alice, that I am not to be disturbed while I write my notes into the patients' files?"

"I know, but he's quite insistent–"

A young man squeezed behind the nurse and leaving her absolutely gobsmacked, he casually sat down on a chair facing the doctor. The doctor stopped typing and casted him an irritated look.

"What kind of a rogue are you, forcing yourself in here like this?!" The doctor reprimanded him and resumed her typing on the computer keyboard. The boy sat perched at the chair, gazing at her with the utmost curiosity. She seemed very strict, she very much resembled Professor McGonagall to him, with her thick-framed rectangular glasses sitting on her nose, her wavy red hair falling onto her shoulders, with her sterile white uniform and unbreakable focus with which she was typing. She furrowed her eyebrows as she was staring into the monitor and with a few clicks she finished her report, mumbling: "Damn you, intrusive kid, if I forgot to write down something about Mr Blessington, I'll curse you when I see him next." She felt his bright green eyes fixed with a great curiosity on her face – this made her even more irritated.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." He mumbled and continued his gaze.

The doctor spoke at last: "Well, young man, what I can do for you?" She presumed he went to see her about an advice, perhaps concerning any of his family members. She was eyeing the boy and making mental notes for herself: Very thin, quite tall, and obviously undernourished, but not critically. His weak sight might prove the faulty element about which he might want to talk to her – he was wearing round glasses. But then her eyes were fixed on a strange scar on his forehead – the scar was shaped like a lightning bolt, straight and regular – she couldn't believe this was acquired by accident; it looked as if someone carved it onto his forehead with a knife – or was it a failed tattoo? His clearing of the throat catapulted her back to reality, she didn't have time to muse about teenage boys' problems. She measured him carefully across the upper rims of her glasses and her gaze was so strict and penetrating that it made him shiver slightly.

"What can I do for you?" She asked again, her voice sounding formal and uninterested. "I have a waiting room full of people, you know, so I don't have the whole day for–"

"Aunt Rosie." He blurted at last, and seemed to be struggling with emotions. Her frown froze and her eyes popped out slightly. She looked at him carefully again and turned on her swivel chair to be straight opposite him. Her lips were slightly apart, and her face surprised and worried. The woman's eyes were brown, and her hair was ginger, and wavy, just like his mother's. It seemed to him that she looked exactly like his mother, only for the eyes, but she was older, however, he imagined the face of his mother having a few more wrinkles and that would be it, that would be his aunt sitting alive and well in front of him.

"Excuse me – what?" She gasped and her eyes were popped out. "I don't know you – I'm not anyone's aunt, much less yours – you must have made a mistake."

"No – really!" He defended himself, "you look just like my mother! Only for the eyes, of course–"

"Boy, I assure you there are plenty of red-haired women in Britain that look like your mother." She said dryly and opened her diary notebook. "I must let her know you were here, your name?"

"Harry Potter." He blurted and his face was now completely flushed.

"Harry, what were you thinking, walking into my office like this and pretending I was your aunt? Better hope I won't make anything out of it – although I do recommend you to see a psychiatrist. Thinking any red-haired woman is your aunt is not normal, Harry, the doctors have medicine to help you, they can help you better than I." She gave him a namecard of a colleague psychiatrist in the neighbourhood and said, fixing her eyes sternly on him: "I'm afraid that must be all, you're keeping me from helping other people." She spoke to him as carefully as she could, she knew that mentally deranged people were hard to deal with. She managed to maintain her calm and the nurse ushered him from the office. At last he turned round and said: "I'm sorry for keeping you for so long, doctor. Good day."

"Don't worry about it, Harry, and good day to you!" She said, feigning a smile. When the boy left. She opened her diary again and made a note:

 _Met a weird boy today. Dark hair, thin, tall, green eyes. His name was Harry Potter and he thought I was his aunt. Had a strange scar on his forehead. Seemed nuts to me._

"She didn't recognize me." Harry breathed out as he strolled across the crossroads with Padfoot by his side. The dog licked his hand in a supportive gesture.

"Do you think she really didn't know who I was, or that she didn't want to know – didn't want to recognize? That she did remember and only said she didn't?" Padfoot was scampering beside him now and gave a whine.

"I don't know either." Harry mumbled and kicked a stone.

-oOo-

 _There was the image of his aunt sitting opposite him behind her white office table, raising her eyebrows at him, pressing her lips into a disapproving line. Although she didn't believe him, he did believe that she was his aunt. The similarity was striking._

"Focus, Potter!" The growl of the most unpleasant of his Hogwarts teachers made him go back to reality. He had been sitting on Snape's bloody chair for hours and wasn't anywhere nearer cracking the secrets of Occlumency.

"That woman, right now, who was that?" He barked and turned towards many of his vials on the shelf, looking for something in particular.

"I don't know." Harry lied.

"Don't lie to me, Potter!" Snape snapped and Harry swore that if he could, he would have hit him with a Cruciatus right away. He could see the anger in his professor's eyes. So he thought it best to spill the beans.

"That was my aunt. What does it have to do with Occlumency?" Harry asked.

"Everything, the mere pitiful fact you still cannot close your mind properly after weeks of practice is vexing me beyond measure." Snape span around and landed with his hands on his desk with such force Harry jerked. "Either you get down to practice in your free time, or I'll be turning your mind upside down whenever you come here, with all your grotty little secrets and things you would like the most to forget."

"Yessuh." Harry mumbled, considering the lesson over, grabbed his schoolbag and went sulkily out of the dungeons' office. Just as the door banged shut after him, the professor began panting heavily and pressing one hand to his heart, he uncorked the vial and extracted a small photograph out of it. Or more precisely, a torn piece of a photograph. The picture showed a young woman smiling. There was no doubt. The women in the picture and in Potter's memory were identical. Except for the eyes, of course. But he was willing to overlook that, if it meant he could have the unknown woman instead. This was all beyond he could ever imagine… All his thoughts belonged to the mysterious woman whom he had just seen in Potter's memory and who certainly looked so much, so intensely much like her! Like Lily! His heart raced and his imagination was racing rapidly with it: If she looks entirely like her… He couldn't imagine, it was too much, the mere thought that he could walk out of his office at that very moment and hold in his arms the woman of his dreams, it was too much! He wished he could muse upon her again and again, he would think of her for eternity! She was vividly before him, she was smiling and her beautiful ginger hair was carried by the wind, he could see the beautiful features in her face, he could see the tiny wrinkles round her eyes, he could see the few grey hair in her shock of ginger hair which was otherwise so shiny, it was all too much, he had to sit down, panting heavily, it was too much, he was too overcome with tender affection, how he could continue with the work he did for the rest of his days he didn't know, all he knew he fell in love with the mere thought of this woman just as if she were Lily, because he had been in love with Lily, so it didn't matter if she was Lily or not, she surely looked like her, and this was enough. All the affection and lust that was bottled up inside him all those years rose to the surface and he began to drift into a sensuous delirium of images and feelings and scenes of him with that woman, whomever she might be. She was just a substitution for Lily, he knew it well, but she was at that moment more than he could, and would, secretly desire. He wanted to possess her, to know what she was doing, to know whether she had a husband or a boyfriend or not, and if she had, to dispose of him quickly and to take his place, he wanted to see the food she was eating, the clothes she was wearing, from the blouses to the stockings, even to the knickers, and he wanted to know what she liked, and what she disliked, and the kind of work she was doing – she seemed to be a Muggle version of a Healer, that suited him fine, he liked that, he liked literate women. He wanted to know all about her, where she was going every day, and what she was doing at that very moment he was thinking of her, he imagined what she might be doing – it was quite late, maybe she was already asleep in her room, or maybe she was with her children – did she have some? It would be unfortunate for him if she did. But most importantly, he thought of her name. What could it be? Her sister was Lily, and he knew her other sister was called Petunia, maybe her parents took some strange fancy in flowers, yes, that would be it, her name would be Daisy, or Violet, or Rose. Rosie, his Rosie, his Daisie, his Lottie. He imagined himself whispering all these names at once tenderly as he would shower her with kisses, he imagined her so vividly his face crooked in a terrible mixture of desire and pain, he imagined running his fingers through her hair, he imagined her giving a soft smile just like her twin sister would, he imagined her leaning forward and kissing him, he imagined the sensuous curves of her body lit by a candlelight, he imagined himself lying on the bed and her bright eyes looking straight into his, and he imagined the cascades of her red hair falling down the arch of her back, and thus he mused and kept himself half-awake all night.

-oOo-

"Professor Snape?" Miss Henley was surprised at seeing the man immediately when she got into her office. He was sitting in one of her chairs and looked as if he had spent the entire night there.

"You haven't been here all night, have you?" She asked politely. There was something wrong with him. He looked dishevelled and unkempt, and for the entire time of three months that she had been working at Hogwarts she hadn't seen him like that.

"Why – why are you asking me such an idiotic question?" He grumbled.

"You look rather tired, sir." She said politely.

"Do I? Yes, I'm tired, Miss Henley, now save your stupid enquires and tell me when the Headmaster arrives."

"He's still at breakfast and he tends to take his time when eating, so for another half-an-hour I presume." Upon hearing it, he gave a frustrated groan. She squatted in front of him and gave him an intent look. The brown eyes met the sad ones.

"Is something wrong, sir? Tell me what bothers you and I'll help you." Her lips were slightly parted and her brown eyes were wide open with concern.

"N-No." He said and his voice sounded harsh and cracky. "Thank you, Miss Henley, you're very kind, but I don't think–"

"Have you eaten your breakfast yet?" Asked she and patted his shoulder gently.

"No, I've been too busy."

"Professor Snape, pull yourself together." She said gently. "You can't walk the castle like that. People will notice. Go to your quarters at once, adjust your appearance, I'll have some food brought there immediately. Eat, I'll keep Professor Dumbledore ready to discuss anything you'd like to address." She gave a soft smile.

He rose and brushing his coat a bit, he said: "Thank you, Miss Henley. How generous of you."

She beamed at him in return and, cheeks ablaze, watched him leave her office hastily.

-oOo-

"Why?!" He cried and hit the table in anger. "Why did you keep her a secret from me?!"

"Because I knew what you would do, Severus." Dumbledore said calmly. "You would do the same as you would now: You would leave Hogwarts, find this strange woman, make her love you – and I'll stop here, for the sake of both you and me. You can't do this, Severus. You can't make her love you just because she looks like Lily. The two women are two different people, Severus, she has her own life, and so have you. I won't permit you to ruin her."

"What life is this?!" The tall man cried in agony, hitting the surface of the table with his fists again. "I'm stuck here with you, having to receive orders both from you and the Dark Lord, and I have to keep an eye on a stupid brat of a man who once bullied me."

"And a woman you loved." Dumbledore reminded him.

"Now it's different." The old Headmaster could see a dangerous flash of light in the other man's black eyes. "With a few crafts I could make her mine, and I'll have everything I once hoped for."

"You cannot abandon me – and Harry – for a Muggle woman you don't even know."

"Why should I be content with mere eyes when I can have the full copy for myself?"

"You disgust me, Severus." The old man spat and rose abruptly. Snape had never seen such anger and disgust in the old man's face.

"I thought you were good." Dumbledore spat. "I thought you were different. But I can see I made a mistake when I saved you from Azkaban all those years ago. I wish you would have been there now, so that no harm should befall the unfortunate woman. Cursed she be for having the wrong face! Because with you," he added spitefully, "she will be cursed, I guarantee you. I wish you armfuls of false love and nights full of artificial affection, because that's what it's going to be, and nothing else."

"Those are pretty harsh words, Dumbledore."

"You're going to slip her a Love Potion, don't pretend you won't!"

Snape lowered his eyes: "It's my last resort."

"You are blind! Blind, Severus! You're so obsessed with clinging to the past so that you completely miss the present. You don't live, Severus, you linger."

"AND WHAT IS IT HERE TO LIVE FOR?!" Snape bellowed. "Everything I had– Everything I could ever have stayed in the past. There is no reason I shouldn't be clinging to it."

"You overlook so many things, Severus." Dumbledore desperately buried his face in his hands. "There are so many things you could have now, if you watched carefully. I believe the future holds in store even better things for you than the past could ever offer. If you looked around carefully, you would see that you already have everything you could ever wish for."

"That's a nice prospect, Dumbledore." Snape smirked. "I literally can't wait."

"You'll never find her." Dumbledore said. "I made sure about that long ago."


	5. Chapter 5

"Tara, I have a request for you." Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Yes, uncle?" Tara sat up straight and looked at the old man with anticipation.

"I want you to leave your office for a few hours now and then." He said.

"Where-Where am I to go, sir?"

"Tara, do you really believe Lord Voldemort is back? Even with the Ministry calling me a crackpot, even with the Daily Prophet telling you otherwise in every morning paper?"

She hesitated slightly, then said: "I believe your judgement, uncle. It has proven to be nearly always as close to the truth as possible. If you believe what Potter says is true, not only based on what happened in the maze, but based on other pieces of evidence as well, my belief doesn't falter."

"Unfortunately, not as many people are as astute and intelligent as myself." Said Dumbledore. "Tara, I believe that dark times lie ahead… Times when you'll be forced out of this castle, perhaps to flee under threat, and it is vital I gave you the utmost protection. Time is our advantage, Tara, Voldemort or the Ministry cannot threaten us right now, but overtime, they'll both get stronger and more capable of doing dreadful things. I want you to familiarise yourself with all the secret passages leading from the castle, particularly with the ones leading to Hogsmeade, and with all the secret tunnels and shortcuts in the castle."

"How can I do that, uncle? Will you show me?"

"No, I'm too busy right now." Said her uncle. Tara felt her insides sink, but then he said: "But if you approach certain Messers Weasley and tell them it is my wish they would educate you a little, I don't think they would object. Especially – and I mean, provided they teach you really well – I wouldn't feel disinclined to give them a reward for special services to the school."

"But – uncle – Fred and George Weasley – they have the entire drawer in Mr Filch's office for themselves–"

"You know, Tara," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I believe that the true genius is more often manifested in what the students do outside their classes. Messers Weasley surely did much damage to the school property – and will do in the future, I'm sure – but they bring a certain message to all the other students, particularly the Gryffindors, that they should never forget how to laugh. Yes, Messers Weasley have done a lot of mischief, but I personally consider them highly intelligent, brave and their sense of humour is just tremendous. Ingenious young men they both are, and it's time their talent was appreciated."

"Yes, uncle." Said Tara, feeling a bit queasy about it all. Having to partner up with the biggest scamps in the entire school…

"But that's not the end of the matter. I want you to educate yourself a little."

"You think me stupid, uncle?" They both knew it wasn't a reproach.

"No, not at all, but I believe the time will come when Voldemort will want to speak to you – or the Ministry. You are a valuable source of information, Tara, not only because you've been working so close to me, but if they find out you're a member of my family–"

"Yes, I understand."

"I want you to start practicing wandless magic, and to get as much proficiency as possible. I would like you to get used to it, even so much you wouldn't need your wand most of the time. I know I'm already asking too much of you, Tara. Even I am not capable of being fully wandless, although I can do many things without my wand. The first step towards this, I believe, would be to get proficient in non-verbal magic first. All the great wizards are, Tara, and all those dangerous ones, too."

"Yes, uncle."

"And there is yet another request I would like to ask you, Tara – pathetic, aren't I? Three requests, how well-worn… Anyway, I would also like you – together with learning your wandless magic – to research ways of combat which don't require you to have a wand or to have any objects nearby – you see, wizards who learn wandless magic – and I'm sure Voldemort is one of them – make this unfortunate mistake of keeping Transfiguring or enchanting objects nearby to their advantage. In other words, Tara, I want you to practice such magic that requires as little tools as possible – ideally nothing but your own bodily magical energy. I know this task is extremely difficult, and to be honest, I wouldn't dare to estimate whether even I myself would be able to find such means, but I believe in you, Tara. The Dumbledores were always excellent wizards, and you are a descendant of our family through and through. I believe you are an even greater witch than you already think you are. The time for completing the tasks I set you is unlimited, unless I tell you otherwise in the future."

"Uncle, I don't know what to say to your praises." Said the young woman, her face scarlet.

"Will you employ all your powers to fulfil my requests, Tara?"

"I will."

"Even if I am forced to leave the school, will you continue with your education?"

"I will."

"Even if you yourself are expelled from the school grounds, and resume the work that might await you elsewhere, will you continue?"

"Yes, I will – uncle, do you think I'll be forced to seek an employment elsewhere – for good?"

"Not as long as I am alive." He reassured her. "You may do your research in your office, if there won't be anything to attend to."

"Thank you." Tara was relieved. This all studying business seemed to be pretty difficult, and would surely be time-consuming, and she was glad to have the liberty to use her working time – the tasks were set by the Headmaster, were they not?

"I'm afraid I cannot help you with any of these, Tara, I'm very, very busy. But Severus knows a bit about non-verbal spells, and so does any other school teacher anyway – I'd be glad if you kept in touch with him frequently, even when away from the school."

"Why, uncle? Why is he so important?"

"Oh, he's very important." Dumbledore smiled, and – Tara couldn't believe it – did she see sparkles of mischief in his bright blue eyes?

-oOo-

Tara was just brushing her long hair before going to bed when she heard a knock on the door. Putting on a dressing gown hastily, she rushed to open the door, and gasped in surprise.

"Professor Snape!"

"Good evening, Miss Henley." The tall wizard greeted her unusually politely. There were no traces of any of the rude, hostile attitude he had seemed to hold towards her.

"Miss Henley, I wouldn't come to you if it weren't utterly necessary." He began, and – Tara couldn't believe her eyes – _was he really hovering in her doorway tentatively? What's happened to him?_

"Yes? What can I do for you?" She asked, her cheeks deeply flushed, while trying to adjust the opening of her dressing gown so that he wouldn't notice the cleavage of her nightdress.

"I would need… a great personal favour." He managed to say through slightly gritted teeth. It seemed almost as if he did and didn't want to ask her at the same time.

"Out with it, I'm used to do personal favours for Professor Dumbledore all the time." She gave him an encouraging smile and blushed even more. "And s-sit down, please." She pointed shyly at her bed.

"That's different, he's your uncle." Said Snape and marching across the room, he sat on her bed. "And besides, you just sit with him when his sleep is disturbed and pacify him after his nightmares, don't you? It's a praiseworthy service that you do, Miss Henley. It means more to him than you could imagine."

After some silence, he began hesitantly: "Are you… Are you familiar with the way Muggles live, Miss Henley?"

"More or less," she nodded. "My mother would take me to London for some Muggle shopping, she loved their fashion, you see, and my father was a Muggle himself, so there were a lot of visits to my paternal grandparents when I was little where I was taught how to behave. I like Muggle fashion, still, professor, it's just so… so sleek and pretty!"

After even longer moment of silence, she asked timidly, hoping he would tell her what the matter was with him: "So you wanted to ask me something, Professor?" It was quite late and his presence was making her uncomfortable.

"I would need–" he began and – did Tara see correctly?! His cheeks were flushed! "–I would need some advice… Advice about women." He breathed out finally and Tara's face took the shade of a beetroot. She had been aware of her affection for the tall Potions Master for some time and this didn't help the situation. Her brain was whirring. Could he– Could he fancy her too, and thus crafted this complicated strategy to get closer to her? Was she to be his Rosalind while he would be her Orlando? Was she to educate him about women, hoping he would put her advice into practice while courting her? Her heat beat like the heart of a little nightingale and she wished the floor of her room would swallow her up so that Professor Snape wouldn't see her crimson face any longer.

"Don't get me wrong–" he said hastily, "I-I don't want to… To create the impression that I… That I'm asking you because– you know, to get to know you better. I'm not really… interested in you nor any other witch in this castle. There are no women that would interest me here." By seeing the crushed look on her face, he reasoned his explanation might have been too harsh, so he added: "It's about a-a Muggle woman I once saw walking past the Leaky Cauldron. I think I took… a fancy in her." He lied, hoping she would swallow the bait. She did. He could see her excited expression fade somehow and he could hear her murmur: "Oh. Is that how it is?"

"You aren't offended, are you?" He asked, uncertain. "There's no one-no one better to help me. I've decided to… to entrust you with my confidential secret, Miss Henley. Will you help me?"

He could see her face give a kind smile, although he couldn't help thinking it was a bit forced and insincere.

"Of course I will." She said reassuringly.

"Great." He breathed out, much relieved. "You know, I want to… get friendly with her first, I don't want to put her off. So I thought… I thought I could look like a Muggle first, before I would be sure she could handle the shock, you know?"

"Yes, I understand. Pardon me, Professor – I thought you weren't one of these people who would like to assimilate themselves with Muggles."

"Under usual circumstances, no." He confirmed. "But I– I think I like this woman very much."

"Tell me, what's she like?" She asked him, a bit dryly, and he couldn't but notice a sudden bitterness in her voice.

"She's very beautiful." He said, strangely glad he could talk about this strange, desired object to someone. "She has long red hair, and brown eyes. She's the same age as myself, I think."

"I didn't know you fancied ginger women, Professor." She said, her eyes looking at her embroidered rug, her face a bit sad.

"Well, it doesn't matter how she looks like." He said hastily. "It's the inside that matters, right? Do Muggle women like to hear this?"

"The less pretty and less proud of us usually do." She said, sad.

"Now tell me – what's the best way to-to meet her? To introduce myself, and to make friends with her?" He asked eagerly.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, fidgeting with her nightgown belt. "Through some shared interest. You know, it would be best if she met you in… a library, for example. Or while doing some sport, or while shopping for equipment for her hobbies – you know, to make it all seem seamless, like a lucky chance you met. You should behave naturally, casually, you should be gallant and attentive, but not intrusive, nosy or officious – you know, just like a gentleman! Muggle women love their gentlemen." She said, giving a soft chuckle.

"What's a gentleman?" He asked, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Tara said softly, "it's quite late and my tired head is getting the better of me. Would you mind if we continued some other day? Maybe Saturday evening, if it's convenient?"

"Yes, of course." He mumbled, somehow disappointed.

"There's so much more I could tell you about Muggle women," she put a comforting hand on his forearm. "But it's late. I promise I'll give you my full attention on Saturday – I can even take you Muggle shopping with me on Sunday!"

"You would do that?" His eyes glittered strangely in the candlelight. "But pretend you're my– my sister, will you? If we meet her–"

"Don't worry." She gave a chuckle and patted his shoulder affectionately. "Does she live in London? Perhaps I could show you around some Muggle stuff and you could hope we could meet her in some department store, or elsewhere in the city centre."

"I have no idea where she lives." He said, sad. "I mean – I saw her in London (this was a lie), but she could live anywhere… By the way, what's a department store?"

"Saturday, Saturday!" She cried and gave a laugh. "You should leave now." She looked at him good-naturedly and she couldn't help it, she had to touch his arm again to bid him goodbye. She just hoped she did it innocently so that he wouldn't notice. He rose from the bed with an energy of a twenty-year-old and squeezing her hand gratefully, he said: "Good night, Miss Henley. And thank you."

She beamed at him excitedly, but as soon as the door closed behind him, she collapsed onto her bed and burst into bitter, hot tears of jealousy.

-oOo-

Rose was driving into the city centre to meet her friends. She didn't have many, because the majority of people didn't have the patience to deal with her constant memory loss all the time, she knew that. She had been like that ever since she could remember, forgetting new pieces of information and details after a timespan about twenty minutes, so she always carried a little diary with her, a notebook where she made remarks upon the events of the day she didn't want to forget. She was religious about keeping her calendar always up to date and noted down even the smallest of events, such as "pick up the laundry at 5" or "call Janine at 10". She had her diary always with her, because without it, she would have been utterly clueless what to do. Sometimes she even forgot what day of the week it was, or what date it was, being unable to remember the date of the previous day – in such cases, she either bought the morning papers, or, if she was lucky, she remembered to pull out her diary: Next to every completed event, she always made a tick, and the day where her ticks ended was likely to be the previous day. Strangely enough, Rose didn't usually forget any long-term skills, such as how to drive or how to (hopefully) do her job right. No, medical knowledge never escaped her head. That was why it was so important to note down every detail of her patient's visit within the timespan of twenty minutes. She noted down even small, tiny things her friends mentioned, and which she felt were important, such as Lucy getting married recently or that Jacob had his wisdom tooth extracted.

When she parked her car successfully, she entered the small cosy café.

"Rose!" Called Janine, and waved at her to show her where they were sitting. There were three of them, Janine, a cheeky, plump blonde daughter of Polish immigrants, constantly changing boyfriends like socks, Mary Ann, the group's know-it-all, a mousy, bespectacled sort of woman who loved knitting above anything else and was still living with her mother (actually, Janine and Jacob prophesied that Mary Ann would never find a boyfriend) and Jacob, whom everybody knew to be gay. Jacob occassionally brought his boyfriend, Mark, but tonight, Mark wasn't there.

"So, Rosie, Jacob and I were just talking about Lucy's present!" Cried Janine and gave the newcomer an enthusiastic, cordial hug.

"Present?" Said Rose, puzzled.

"Have you forgotten who Lucy is, again?" Jacob chided her, smiling.

"Of course not!" Yelled Rose indignantly. "Lucy's your little sister, isn't she?"

"Yep, you've got that right." Jacob nodded at her. "And Lucy's had twins a fortnight ago, remember?"

"Oh," said Rose and all the enthusiasm of seeing her best friends suddenly faded. Again, she felt like being inferior to them. Inferior to Janine, who didn't give a damn about British heritage and spoke Polish with her family at home, using English only when she had to, interior to Jacob the homosexual, inferior to Mary Ann, the blissfully knowledgeable nitwit. Again, she felt like an outsider, forgetting things the group had even recently discussed. _No wonder no one wants to be friends with me_ , Rose thought bitterly.

"Rose, we were discussing that on the phone for at least an hour!" Cried Janine. "You said you didn't believe they hadn't used the C-section, with Lucy being a first-time mom and having two babies at once–"

"Oh, did I?" Said Rose, and wished with all her might for the situation to be over. "Sorry, I forgot."

"So, how about the present?" Said Mary Ann, "I thought that maybe, you know, some knitted stuff for the kids–"

"Good, although I should warn you, Mary Ann, Lucy's already got a lot of clothes for the babies, so don't strain yourself too much, will you?" Yawned Jacob and sipped his coffee lazily.

"Let's forget about the babies, everyone'll have something for the babies," Janine sneered and then clapped her hands excitedly: "How about some nice bottle of Lucy's favourite tipple?"

Mary Ann gave a spitting chuckle: "Yeah, I suppose she'll need it, taking care about the twins."

At the same time, Rose cried: "We can't give her _alcohol_! Janine, you know you cannot drink alcohol after giving birth, it's bad for the baby!"

Janine just waved her hand and said: "I certainly did, and I can't see any damage on either Patrick or Daniel."

"You shouldn't have been so reckless, Janine, you know–"

"Give it a rest, Rosie." Said Jacob and winked at her. He didn't like it when the girls were starting an argument.

"So, Jan, how about you and Derek?" Rose asked and gave the blonde a sort-of-important look.

"I've split up with Derek ages ago, Rose." Sighed Janine and suddenly looked much more tired. "I'm dating Gary now."

"Really? And what does he do?"

"He's a schoolteacher, Rose." Said Janine with a trace of resignation apparent in her voice. Apparently, Rose didn't catch it, because she continued: "I could never date a schoolteacher, I hate kids. That's probably the reason why I never had any."

"Yeah, Rose, we know, you said that last time." Said Mary Ann. "You should really find a better psychiatrist, you know. This is not normal, you know, when you can't remember anything."

"I can remember stuff!" Rose protested. "I remember your names, and who you are, and everything!"

"Yeah, we're really grateful for that." Janine sneered cheekily, but when she saw Rose's devastated face, she hugged her gently and said reassuringly: "C'mon, Rosie, we're just making fun of you. You know we love you."

Rose smiled gently and rose to order a latté at the counter. Janine hissed at Mary Ann: "You shouldn't have said that about the psychiatrist!"

"Why not?" Mary Ann objected. "It's true. We're the only people she's friends with, and I'm really running out of patience sometimes…"

"You know it's not her fault, Mary Ann." Jacob chided her. "Although, to be fair," he turned to Janine, "I sometimes wonder why we are supposed to be the ones doing the charity service for her. She's not easy to be friends with, after all."

"How can you be so cruel!" Hissed Janine. "I pity her, to be honest. No man's gonna stay with her for long, I can guarantee you that."

"She already _is_ a spinster, if you ask me. She's hardly had any boyfriend at all." Said Mary Ann.

"You're the one to tell!" Cried Janine.

"If you two cows are done bitchin', she's coming back, so you might wanna shut it." Said Jacob with a slight frown.

"The queue was terribly long." Complained Rose as she sat down, holding a mug of coffee, "what were we talking about?"

Mary Ann and Janine sighed. Jacob put on a soft smile and explained patiently: "Lucy's got twins, you know. We were just talking about a present for her."

-oOo-

"Have you been crying, Tara?" Professor Dumbledore asked as soon as he saw his niece in the morning. Her face was swollen, her eyes were red and puffy and her nose looked like a big red eggplant. She replied dully, as if she had a terrible cold: "No."

"I don't need to use Legillimency to see that you have." He said gently.

"Well, and what of it?" She said, her voice dull, uninterested, and husky. "What does it matter? What does it matter that he doesn't want me?" She gave a loud sob and looked at her parchment again, resolute to get out of the conversation.

"I've been watching you and Severus for a long time now." Her uncle said gently and sat down beside her behind her desk (the chair hadn't been there a second ago). "I know how you're feeling, Tara."

"You do?" She mumbled, not really believing him, wiping her eyes into a handkerchief.

"Yes." Dumbledore said. "There was– someone that I was once fond of, and he– that person never requited my feelings either. I know exactly how painful it is."

Her big brown eyes found his and she seemed to calm down a bit.

"But you must persevere. I've told Severus multiple times that he doesn't see the opportunities around him – I'd thought he would've figured it out by now."

"There's– There's someone else he's interested in!" She wailed and hiccuped into her handkerchief. "There's nothing I can do, his head's full of her – I'm just going to give him advice about Muggle women and hope that someday, my words might somehow turn to my advantage, but I seriously doubt it–"

Dumbledore's expression seemed to darken somehow.

"Severus has made himself vulnerable to you, Tara, because he thought it didn't matter. He thinks you unimportant and therefore, he doesn't control himself so carefully as he does with other people."

"And that's supposed to cheer me up, right?!" She cried.

"Indeed." Her uncle said calmly, as if he hadn't noticed her tantrum. "You can get under his skin, Tara. Very few people are allowed that privilege, and I doubt there's a person living that has such an opportunity as you do. Be there for him, tell him whatever he wants to know, become his friend. Let him depend on you. Let him need you. Let him miss you. Don't be pushful, be like a seaport where he can return after all his failures – and there will be failures, I'm sure of it."

"You– Do you know the woman he's interested in, uncle Albus?"

"I happen to know her well enough to know these two aren't compatible." Dumbledore nodded.

"Is she– Is she hard to get on well with?" Asked Tara with a speck of hope in her voice.

"She certainly is, but I won't tell you anything more about her. It's best that you don't know who she is, these 'private lessons' with Severus, as I would call them (he gave a small chuckle) will be extremely beneficial for you one day, be sure of it." He stroke her cheek in almost a fatherly manner. "Give him time, Tara, he'll find out. Be brave, be patient. Why don't you show him how strong you can get? Why don't you focus your energy on fulfilling the tasks I set you, instead of crying? I believe a strong, talented, intelligent and modest witch is just the thing that would impress him, he's just too blind to notice it now."

-oOo-

"Good evening, Miss Henley." Snape said politely when she answered the door to her small bedroom.

She gave him a wide, radiant smile: "Good evening, professor."

He started hovering uncertainly again: "I thought I'd– I mean I brought you– I mean I was thinking of rehearsing– Do Muggles usually bring a small present when visiting other people?"

"Yes, they do." Miss Henley nodded and gratefully accepted a bottle of elf-made wine he was holding. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

She was secretly hoping he might offer her to call him by his name, but that didn't happen.

"So tell me, Miss Henley," he walked to her bed and sat down on it, as if it were a usual thing for him to do, "do all Muggles live in houses?"

"Not all of them," said Miss Henley, putting the flask down on the table and conjuring two glasses out of thin air, handing him one, "may I offer you the wine I received as a gift?"

Much against his will, he gave a soft smile and accepted the glass.

"Some Muggles live in flats, that is, in few rooms grouped together on one floor in a big, tall building where there are a lot of floors. They usually have cars, or other vehicles – things to transport them, I mean – such as motorbikes and bikes. Children even sometimes have funny riding toys."

"And how about buses and trains? I heard they have them too." He murmured.

"Yes, buses and trains are used by people who don't have a car or cannot drive. In London, the biggest means of transport is a tube – a train going under ground."

"Ok, what do Muggle women usually do? Jobs, I mean?"

"The majority of Muggle jobs can be done by either a man or a woman, and there are so many of them that I cannot possibly go through all with you."

"And how about…" he thought hard about the woman he saw in Potter's mind. Was that in her job? "How about Muggles in white coats and funny little tubes around their neck, what job is that?"

"That must be a Muggle doctor." Miss Henley said. "You know, like a Healer, but with much more limited resources."

"I see," he said. "Please, tell me more about Muggle women, Miss Henley. What do they want? You mention a gentleman. Can I take it literally, or does it mean something else than a man who is gentle?"

Miss Henley smiled: "A gentleman is… Well, it's a well-established term right now, it's hard to actually define it… A gentleman should be good-looking, polite, calm, generous, considerate, chivalrous towards women – you know, treating women with respect, bring her flowers, protect her, give her gifts…"

"You women really are modest." Snape gave a smirk.

"Well, why don't you tell me your expectations of an ideal woman, professor?" Tara prodded him. He straightened his back and rubbed his cleanly shaved chin, meditating. Finally, he said: "I think I need her to be kind, above everything. Kind and pretty, witty and brave, friendly and helpful, handy and with her heart in the right place."

Tara stared at him, astonished. Who would have said that the nasty Potions Master, the feared man clothed in black, the ex-Death Eater, the fan of Dark Arts would want a woman so inately good? She blushed, realizing she liked the man even more for his preferences.

"Professor Snape, how can you be so sure she's not already taken? With such qualities as these, she would surely be." She said gently.

"I– I have no information about that." He said dryly. Then his spirit re-animated and he sat upright again, leaning forward towards her. "Please, Miss Henley, let us continue. Let's suppose I meet her somewhere in public and try to make contact with her. What should I say?"

"Well, professor, that really depends on where you'll meet her. A conversation appropriate for that place must begin, and be sure to ask her a lot of questions about herself and talk little about you. Be pleasant, polite, and smile a lot." She said. Then she tried to picture Snape being pleasant and smiling and she actually supressed a desire to giggle.

"Well, let's suppose I am to meet her for a cup of coffee?"

"Make sure to pay for her at the end, and try to strike a good conversation. If she thinks you entertaining, she'll want to meet again."

He seemed to swallow every word eagerly as she spoke, scanning her hungrily with his onyx eyes. Miss Henley thought he must want to meet that woman very much, because he seemed so pliable, so willing to learn everything he could about Muggle women! He didn't seem to cease asking her questions, and she did her best to reply, they've covered everything: What to say, what not to say, what is appropriate, what is not, what women expect to hear and not to hear on a first date, what things Muggle women liked and disliked, what they usually did during the day, and so on. Miss Henley felt quite exhausted, she felt she was describing usual everyday situations to a stranger who had never experienced them. He wanted to know every detail, and what Miss Henley said should, after all, be applicable to women in general. How come he didn't know anything, then? Hours and hours passed, and Miss Henley felt as if her head was swimming in an ocean of wine, when finally, Professor Snape asked: "And how do Muggle women protect themselves while enjoying their sexual pleasures?"

Tara's face turned violet again. This sudden question made her completely sober. Never ever would she anticipate discussing sex with the man she had a long-lasting crush on, not for the whole world, and yet here he was, asking her perhaps the most embarrasing question of all.

"I-I don't know, professor!" She yelled, her voice unnaturally higher than usual.

"You surely know, you just don't want to tell me." He sneered.

"That's as maybe." She snapped. "Maybe I don't want to tell you."

"Please, Miss Henley – Tara – I don't want to make a fool of myself." He said, his voice sounded earnest, nearly pleading with her. His black eyes quietly beseeched hers and he took one of her hands gently into his.

"Alright." She said, rising abruptly, and with her back turned towards him, so that he wouldn't see her purple face, she began searching her tall bookshelf really hard. "I believe men usually use little… covers." He could see only her brightly red ears. "And women can use little pills that make them infertile for a short amount of time. But I don't know much about it. Here," she threw him a thin booklet, "is all I know."

He looked at the bookcover. It said 'Sexuality Education: Embracing Diversity'. He looked at her, his expression half quizzical and half amused.

"Is this what you read before bedtime, Miss Henley?"

"No, my favourite Muggle author are the Bronte sisters." She retorted. "What do you read before bedtime?"

"I'm just rereading my copy of Moste Potente Potions." He waved his hand casually as if it were downright primitive.

"You better not tell that to your Miss Intended." Tara frowned. "Wait a second, I could lend you some Muggle books… Charles Dickens was my favourite when I was little…"

Handing him Great Expectations, Oliver Twist and David Copperfield, and after much hesitation, even Makepiece-Thackeray's Vanity Fair, she concluded it would be time to say goodbye. He nodded curtly, carrying all the books in his arms, and wished her a pleasant night politely.

-oOo-

They met the following morning in his office as expected. Tara was wearing a plain Muggle style blouse and red flared skirt with woollen tights and boots. As he admitted her into his office, she could see that he already attempted a Muggle style outfit in which he rather resembled a nineteenth century schoolteacher.

"You cannot wear coat-tails, professor, that's too outdated!" She cried. "And that opera hat must go as well! Let me help you, I'm quite daft at that." She said and began waving her wand to and fro. Snape could feel his coat shrink and tighten, and soon he could see his reflection in the mirror in an outfit he most certainly wouldn't've chosen: A casual jacket, open in the front so it was showing his white shirt underneath, stiff-fabric pants and plain leather shoes. The last piece of his changed attire was now a kind of sporty flat hat.

"I don't like the hat." He said, throwing it aside.

"But you look sleek and elegant. Not too much, but enough to look really handsome." She praised him.

"I've never seen you in such a short skirt before, you have nice legs." He said, practicing his nice attitude for his possible future encounter. Miss Henley, on the other hand, looked as if someone told her she won the Great Wizarding Lottery. Clearing her throat, she said: "Shall we go now?"

-oOo-

They Apparated into a dingy alley behind the department store. When she took him inside, Snape coudn't but marvel at all the giant windows – althought the mannequins weren't moving, which was a disgrace, the clothes displayed were genuinly pretty. He kept pointing at windows or shopsigns, and Miss Henley softly explained everything, however, they did get a shocked look by one of the passers-by now and then. Stopping in front of a particularly nicely decorated window full of aran sweaters, Miss Henley couldn't stop staring at them longingly until Severus had to practically drag her away. Complaining how expensive Muggle clothing was, Miss Henley was much more cheerful after she spotted a shop with electronics. Dragging Snape inside, she pointed at all devices and explained everything in a hushed whisper. Snape, whose favourite device turned to be a vacuum cleaner, refused to walk away until he had seen at least six commercials in a row on a Muggle TV. Exasperated but happy, they popped in for lunch in an Asian restaurant; a lunch they both enjoyed tremendously. After even more windowshopping and some sightseeing, Tara decided it was time to return to Hogwarts.

"I can't really express how grateful I am, Miss Henley. If you weren't kind enough to help me–"

"Don't worry, Proffesor Snape," Tara said cheerfully, "I enjoyed spending time with you very much." She hoped it didn't give away too much. "By the way, tomorrow's your birthday, isn't it?"

He suddenly frowned: "I don't like my birthday much."

"Well, I've got a present for you. I'm sure you'll like it!"

"When is your birthday, Miss Henley?"

"Twenty days after yours. In a Muggle horoscope, I'm an Aquarius, actually."

"What am I?"

"A Capricorn."

"That sounds like a kind of Muggle vegetable." He frowned. "Yours sounds better."

The sound of her laugh was carried in the night air as they walked swiftly up the slopy Hogwarts grounds up to the winged boars' gate.


	6. Chapter 6

To comment on one of the reviews, I am aware that Snape was a half-blood. But I understand his character to be, like Voldemort and Harry, more interested in the "magical" side of his life. Don't forget he hated his Muggle father, and hence nicknamed himself "the Half-Blood Prince", so I perceive him to have a kind of inclination to dislike anything Muggle-related – at least I imagine he would have. He left the Muggle world for good when he first went to Hogwarts, immersing himself fully in the wizarding world, and I imagine this would have been the point when he lost contact with the Muggle world forever. Sirius (or Lupin, one of the two) once commented that Snape had great knowledge of the Dark Arts even as a first year student, plus he knew quite a lot about Hogwarts and the magical world in general when he met Lily, so I imagine he would rather spend his time with books (or his mother) than in the Muggle world. Even the slightly inappropriate clothes he wore when he was little suggest that whomever chose them for him (was it his mother or did he choose his clothes himself?) didn't really know what little Muggle boys usually wore (either this, or the family was very poor and simply couldn't afford Muggle clothes – but couldn't his mother Transfigure some for him?). The fact that he was friends with Lily doesn't really change much, because from the start, she was more interested in the wizarding world than Snape was interested in the Muggle world and the majority of their conversation revolved around magic anyway. He even commented on Petunia being a Muggle, and I can't but notice a slight distance (or even contempt?) in his statement. So, all in all, I don't think Snape had much knowledge about the Muggle world, because he never wanted to belong in it, and whichever knowledge he had, he might have easily forgotten it because of how little time he actually might have spent amongst Muggles. And adult Snape would never have any knowledge about Muggle women, if about any women at all, because I don't think he actually tried to do anything more with Lily than hope they would one day become something more than friends, and it was never stated in the canon whether Snape was ever in an actual relationship or not. So for the purposes of this story, I assumed he was not.

Now, let's move on to the next chapter!

-oOo-

Severus Snape woke up. Everything was dark, because it was January and the sun did not rise until about eight in the morning. Upon lighting the candles, he found out that there was a small pile of presents at his bedside table. The smallest present was from Dumbledore: The Headmaster gifted him a small flask of cologne. Snape sneered. Still, it was better than the Headmaster's Christmas present – a fortnight ago, Dumbledore had given him a mirror that criticised his appearance every time he looked in it. Next, there was a hard-back present from Minerva: For every Christmas and every birthday of his, she would be giving him a book about potions. How monotonous. The third present was from his long-time friend, Alatar Vance, a middle-aged Death Eater Severus spent enough time running errands for the Dark Lord he could actually count Alatar as a friend. Alatar had a flair for unusual, interesting magical objects, and although Snape generally wouldn't have admitted it publicly, Alatar's gifts nearly always intrigued him. For Christmas, Alatar had sent him a box of fairy powder, and at this moment, Severus was in the process of incorporating it into his potions, by the use of his favourite method of trial and error, and since then, some of his trademarks have gotten a lot more effective. Eagerly, he opened the box, only to find a tiny flask labelled "Cibus" in Alatar's handwriting. A short letter was accompanying the flask:

 _Severus,_

 _I hope you'll find my gift intriguing. It's a fascinating artefact (and I'm not completely sure whether or not this is actually freely available in Diagon Alley or anywhere else), it is an enticing essence which has a lot to do with women – hear me out, you might find this quite handy yourself, even though you insist you do not: Whenever you wish to divert any witch you find hindering you in your way, you just put it into her drink and she'll very soon remember to seek someone very important who might be waiting for her… at the other end of the wizarding world, if you will. She'll eventually find only the remainder of the flask at the end of her journey, though, so you must remember to leave it uncorked whenever you wish to lure that witch. It has worked for me on multiple occasions, mainly as a diversionary tactics, but I mean, if you want to lure that witch to yourself, you absolutely can! – Although I seriously doubt you'd like that much attention, and honestly, my friend – only a strong Imperius Curse and an exceptional love potion combined with this tiny Cibus could ever manage it, I mean, there isn't exactly a queue of young witches behind the door, is there?_

 _By the way, what do you make of the Azkaban break-out? Do you reckon there will be many the Dark Lord will like to punish for deserting his side? We shall talk soon._

 _Alatar_

Severus sighed. Alatar was a devoted follower, unaware of Severus' true allegiance, and Severus even doubted Alatar would ever understand. That was what vexed him about Alatar, too, the fact that they will never be able to be 'true friends' – not unless he, Severus, would spill his beans – and he had no intentions of doing so. With another sigh, he spotted the last present, the biggest of them all, a giant gift-wrapped board leaning onto one side of his writing desk. He curiously unwrapped it, revealing a nice painting of a girl. She was seated on a velvety-cushioned chair, she was seated the wrong way, so her hands and chest were leaning onto the chair's back. She had big, brown eyes and thick hair falling in wavy cascades down her back. Only then he realised that she purposely let one of the shoulders of her satin kimono loose, so that a pinch of her bra and her round ivory shoulder were exposed, curling her red painted lips into a cheeky smile. He couldn't believe Miss Henley would ever give him a painting of a little harlot like this one. Just when he was on the verge of throwing the painting away, she said: "You don't look very happy."

"I don't have any idea why Miss Henley thought having a portrait of a prostitute hung in my bedroom would make me go anywhere near 'happy'." He sneered.

"I'm not a prostitute!" The girl exclaimed, clearly offended, and pouting her lips, she pulled the sleeve of her kimono back where it belonged. She adjusted the belt and looked at him: "Happy, now?"

"No, but it's a bit better." He smirked. "Who are you, anyway?"

"She," the girl jerked her chin towards the right side of the frame, "told me you wanted to practice talking to Muggle women."

"Is it why she gave you to me?" He pursed his lips. "You're not exactly the kind of woman I'd like to–"

"No, but I know as much about them as she does." The girl jerked her chin again.

"Who are you?" He asked, puzzled. "You seem vaguely familiar to me, I wonder where I've seen you."

"Who do you want me to be?" The girl said and winked her long lashes at him.

"Am I supposed to call you – _her name_?"

"No, I won't disgrace the name of your Intended." The girl made an unpleasant face. "Why don't you give me a Muggle name, to begin with?"

"That's silly." He spat. "I won't be playing childish games with you."

"That's because you can't even talk to a woman." The girl sneered.

"Can't I?!" He snapped, grasped the painting roughly and thrust it on the only wall that wasn't covered in bookshelves.

Upon seeing him march out of the bedroom angrily, the girl called after him: "Wait! How will you call me? She told me you had to give me a Muggle name!"

"Shut up, Emma." He growled, sticking his head into the doorslit, threw her one last unpleasant look and banged the door shut.

The girl seated herself back on her comfortable chair and murmured, sneering: "Emma. That's just the most stupid name of them all. I heard some Muggle women are even called Virginia or Antoinette. Why can't it be Antoinette? I'd like to be Antoinette. I don't like being called Emma, that's for five-year-old girls. Pooh!"

-oOo-

"How do you like your birthday presents, Professor?" Tara asked politely. He looked up from his plate of scrambled eggs at her and his gloomy face surprised her.

"They're alright, I suppose."

"You're not a very cheerful person, are you?" She commented, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"No." He said tersely.

"That's a pity, you're spoiling all that's nice in the world for yourself." She sighed. He sipped his pumpkin juice and declared: "You and Professor Dumbledore really are of the same blood. He was telling me just the same clichés the other day."

"Professor Dumbledore is a wise man." Tara said and winked at him. "He liked my painting – the one I gave you for your birthday."

"It's a very unusual gift, Miss Henley. What use would I have for a painting of an obscene girl?"

"I told her to behave, I did!" Miss Henley gave an irritated growl. "Anyway, the gift I gave you for Christmas was too boring." She smirked. He looked up at her properly, he felt like it was the first time he really looked at her. There was something familiar about her, something he couldn't really give a name to. Her full red lips seemed to be hinting something he couldn't grasp, her big brown eyes seemed to be sparkling in a silent reminder of his ignorance.

"I don't find anything boring at all on that quill." He said finally.

She sighed: "Oh, yes, I bewitched it so that it would remember your handwriting and wrote some of your tiresome stuff for you – you've already used it for essay reviews, I suppose? But that's like getting a pair of socks, isn't it? I mean, it's practical, and everything, but it's just terribly _boring_!"

"Did you change your hairstyle, Miss Henley?" He asked, and she froze, her hand holding her toast halfway in the air to her mouth. There really was something about her – something he felt he should have realised ages ago – but it just wasn't coming to him!

"No, I didn't." She answered, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing." She heard him murmur and he spoke to her no more, annoyed at his lack of wit.

-oOo-

Tara marched through library bookshelves, exasperated. Try as she might, she wasn't able to find a book about any other ways of wizarding combat than wand-duelling. Of course, she had borrowed books about wandless magic long ago, and now she was reading them at leisure, but they were all identical: They all treated the wizard as a user momentarily lacking his wand, and who, as a consequence, had to manage without it, advising him to imagine having a wand and trying with his bare hands. Tara was sure that this wasn't what her uncle meant. According his instructions, she was to exclude transfiguration and enchanting of nearby objects, and for what Tara knew, this was what usual duelling was about – that, or firing or blocking curses, and she wasn't sure whether her uncle had this in mind when he set the task for her. She sighed and picked a book about human transformation, avoided the scornful glance of Madame Pince, the librarian, and walked out of the library. Madame Pince threw her one last annoyed look and closed the door behind her, turning the key and closing the library for the day.

 _'_ _Any witch or wizard who finds himself or herself in the need of such a feat, can momentarily increase or decrease the size of any of his or her body parts, with no long-term physical consequences. The incantation is fairly simple, with only a few additions any witch or wizard can use to adjust the size of the intended body part…'_

Tara's head fell onto the page of which she was trying to grasp the meaning for the last twenty minutes.

 _"_ _Severus?"_

 _"_ _What?" The man was sitting in an armchair and just turned a page in his book, looking bored._

 _The candles were lit. The room was dim and hot. She was standing in front of him, clad only in her satin kimono dress which was sliding off her shoulders dangerously. She gave him a vicious, tempting smile._

 _"_ _Do you want me to get stripped for you?"_

 _He stared at her, devoid of all words. A silent blush was creeping into his cheeks._

 _"_ _I know you want this… I know you want to see–"_

With an abrupt gasp, Tara jumped up from her slumber. Looking at the clock, it was well after two in the morning. Ashamed of her inability to keep reading a relatively simple wizarding book, she quickly cleaned the page of her make-up and saliva and headed for the bathroom to get ready for some proper sleeping. She was angry with herself. Angry because more and more time passed since her uncle had set her a task that was meant for her own good. She tried practicing wandless magic in the office when everybody in the castle was busy and the office was quiet, but she was just terrible with wandless magic. Terrible. She was positive that should she ask Severus for help, he would have scoffed at her, and rightly. What was more, she desperately tried to fight the temptation to think about the Potions Master – that only kept the memories of her dream returning. As she stood in the hot shower, Tara fought back her tears of shame. _I'm just pathetic. Pathetic!_ She thought. _Having such silly dreams, like a little schoolgirl, Tara, pull yourself together!_ She slapped her cheek hard. You have a task to do, you mustn't lose.

-oOo-

"So, tell me about yourself!" Said Rose, trying to sound cheerful and light-hearted. This was one of the many dates she had had in the recent years. The young man sitting opposite her at the table didn't seem particularly entertained.

"You've just asked me a quarter an hour ago." He said with a very slight hint of an actual sight. Rose's cheeks got pink with shame. How many times had she had to face this? How many times had she felt the sharp pang of embarrassment and anger creep all over her body? Not lifting her eyes off the white restaurant tablecloth, she mumbled: "Sorry. I've just this memory issue…"

"I know." He said. "You've told me. Look," he said, and took her hands into his, "I don't think this would work. I was hoping to find someone more… equal to me, okay? Someone who could keep up with me and my busy lifestyle, someone with whom I could start a family one day… I'm sorry, Rose. I'm not ready to handle you and your handicap. I'm really sorry."

"'Salright." Was the only thing she could manage through her gritted teeth. Clenching her fists in her lap, she desperately tried not to cry. She could hear his apologies, but they didn't get anywhere near her. Finally, she had to rise from the table, she had to leave the date as quick as she could. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to have her conscience bothered by her unfortunate existence, by her miserable life. She walked quickly out of the restaurant, leaving him in charge of the bill. She expected him to pay anyway. As she was getting into her car, she could sense movement behind her back. She turned around and scanned the thick assortment of bushes and trees, but couldn't see anything.

-oOo-

"Hey, Ugly-Face, how was your day?" Emma said lazily. She had swung her long legs over one arm of the plush chair and seemed to be lazily contemplating the presence of a fly on her canvas when the door of his office shut tight behind him.

"Shut up, or I'll set your portrait on fire." He barked darkly. She shrieked with terror. A closer look at his worn-out, puffy face could tell her he was exhausted.

"Feeling rough, huh?" She asked him again, much more gently this time.

"The pink toad inspected me today." He murmured, but it sounded much more like an exasperated sigh.

"Wow, I heard from the other portraits that she's pretty nasty. And annoying."

"You heard that right. She's insufferable. Being in your presence feels like heaven compared to her." Now he actually sighed.

"I'll do you a favour and take that as a compliment." She pouted her lips. Then she gave a weak smile: "Anything made you happy today?"

"No. – Oh, thinking of it, I actually gave Granger a good telling-off. That was satisfying." He smiled nastily. Staring into the space of his bedroom, he just murmured: "I'm merely vexed all the time mainly because I get to spend it only with people that I dislike – detest, even."

"Really?" She cried. "Come on! There must be somebody who treats you right!"

"Well, Miss Henley does, sometimes." He murmured. He couldn't believe he was saying that aloud. "I suppose she's the kindest person around here – well, just occasionally. If she doesn't get on my nerves as everyone else."

"I reckon she's a nice person," Emma shrugged her shoulders, "but you know, if you stomp at her feet, she would be a fool not to stomp back at yours."

"I suppose you're right." He said, and laid down on his neatly made-up bed, still fully dressed. "The problem is that I scarcely tell stomping at someone's feet from the way people usually treat one another these days. I'm not a nice person, really." He sighed. "No wonder she didn't like me back then. I don't think her sister would ever like to go out with me now. Pathetic, aren't I?"

"Owowowow, what's with the self-pity now?" Emma said, clearly irritated. "Haven't I told you I would help you to get to her? Haven't I?!"

"I don't remember you ever telling me that." He murmured.

"Well, you hear it now! I'll help you, you old grouch, that's why you got me, after all!"

"I reckon you could qualify as an OK present after all." He muttered and fell asleep on his bed with his back turned towards her, so that she wouldn't see his soft smile. But what did it matter that she would? She's just a portrait, after all… A silly canvas someone bewitched to move…

-oOo-

When she woke up the next morning, she found a small pile of presents at the feet of her bed. Then she realised it was her birthday. Feeling much elated, she scrambled off the bed to have a proper look at her presents. There was a nice pocket watch from Minerva, a small flask of an expensive perfume from her uncle (Tara suspected it was some enchanted perfume which would make her more attractive, her uncle would be the perfect candidate to give her such a gift), and a small bag of coins from her papa ("Buy something nice for yourself, my dear," he would always tell her, even if she was already earning her own salary, "I know you aren't that kind of girl to go shopping out of the blue, so now you have a reason to go."). Plus, there was something round and soft. To her great surprise, when she tore off the paper, she found an aran sweater from Severus. _The_ aran sweater she was eyeballing at the Muggle department store when they went there. _The_ aran sweater she deemed too damn expensive. She stared at the garment in disbelief. _I can't believe he went there and got it for me,_ she thought. _I can't even believe he remembered what I liked!_ Needless to say that this sweater was her favourite gift of all. She didn't dare wear it in public, or he could notice how much she was snuggling the knitted fabric, but in the evenings, she cuddled it, or she lay in her bed wrapped up in the sweater, reading a book from the library which should help her get anywhere nearer to "defending herself without any wand" as her uncle put it. This was making her frustrated. She kept reading hours and hours on end, she was going through the books in the library like crazy, but there just wasn't anything anywhere. The next day, when she was in the library again, she checked out a book called _Hidden Power of Wizardkind_. It was a very eccentric book, a very unusual tome indeed, Tara thought that the only person who would believe its content would be only Xenophilius Lovegood, but she borrowed it anyway. She had nothing to lose, she had already read everything else in that section.

-oOo-

"Miss Henley, I was in the library the other day and couldn't find a book that I needed for one of my lessons. Then I looked into the register and couldn't but notice your name as the last person who borrowed it. Are you interested in finding the element that best resembles your wizarding style?" Snape said derisively. This was just one of their usual morning breakfast conversations: Discussing books, discussing students, weather, Quidditch, anything. Tara looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

"I didn't know you were such a snooper. What will interest you next, my sleepwear?"

"I've already seen that, remember?" He teased her slightly. Her cheeks got red and hot.

"Oh, yes, I forgot." She stuttered, put off her usual balance – but that wasn't a difficult task to do, even the other members of staff now started noticing she had a soft spot for the Potions Master, and she was just praying he wouldn't notice himself one day. But how could he? He was as apt with women as an Easter Bunny.

"Will you bring that book to my office after lunch? I need it." He asked dryly.

"I'm not finished with it."  
"I don't care."

"If you want it, you are to do me a favour."

"Stop blackmailing me, you little wench."

"Language like that will not get you anywhere close." She said dryly.

"Damn, you look like an ugly duckling, but you have the tongue of a serpent." He spat, not wanting to acknowledge he was actually enjoying bickering with her.

"You're the one to talk about appearances." She sneered. "If I were to repeat the comments students regale you with – appearance-wise – I would have to flush my mouth out with soap afterwards."

"It's quite a pleasure listening to you two," Filius winked at them as he was passing by, "Severus, I'm glad you've finally found an equally silver-tongued person to keep you company."

"No, Professor Flitwick–" Tara cried, ashamed, "you mustn't think I'm such a mean person, sir, but being friends with Professor Snape requires special skills–"

"I assure you, Filius, my niece is as meek as a lamb when she's alone with me." Said Professor Dumbledore, who was just getting up from his high-backed chair.

"Don't worry, Miss Henley, I know what Severus can be like." Filius patted her arm reassuringly. Severus was scowling at the assembly. When he finally caught up with her later in the afternoon, he growled: "What exactly made you think we were friends?"

"Well, we spend a lot of time together–"

"On Dumbledore's orders. Next?"

"Since when do you adhere to orders?"

"Shut up, you foolish girl. You, of all people, are certainly _not_ a friend of mine." He spat.

"Yeah, cause you have so many friends that you don't need any more." She smirked at him as she was scuttling beside him, carrying a stock of parchments.

"You're the one to talk, having only your grandfather and uncle to talk to." Snape snapped. "End of discussion. Give me the book."

"No." She said, "I'm not finished. I think I might crack this whole thing. Just a little more–"

"Cough it up." He growled dangerously, and some half a year ago, this would have frightened her beyond measure. But not today.

"Get stuffed." She said calmly and walked up the spiral staircase to her office.

-oOo-

Tara held a broken quill under her office desk, unsuccessfully trying to make it disappear for at least half an hour now. So, when she heard Professor Snape murmur her name softly, she squealed, jumped up, hit the desk and spilled her ink bottle.

"You must have been doing something truly illicit under that table, Miss Henley, judging by your reaction." He said, folding his arms, clearly amused. She looked at him, gobsmacked. _Was he really hinting at what she thought he was hinting at, that old grump?_

"N-No, P-Professor Snape, I…" Her face was purple again. "I-I was just attempting some wandless magic, sir." She said, ashamed for her explanation which sounded more than lame to her own ears, and showed him the broken quill on her outstretched palm. He raised an eyebrow at her and growled: "Wandless magic is taught in the sixth year of the Hogwarts education, Miss Henley, so unless you were studying a different wizarding school, you should be able to do a simple Reparo without your wand." He said derisively, silently blaming her for her inaptness. Her face turned violet and she mumbled an apology to everyone and to no one.

"I know you would be hard with me if I ever told you." She mumbled softly. "That's why I didn't want to ask you for help, even though my uncle suggested–"

"So it's the same old 'Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf', is it?" He said, folding his arms and scanning her guilty face with his dark, piercing eyes. "You know, Miss Henley, I wouldn't have to be hard on you. I wouldn't have to be hard on anyone… But your ignorance grates on me. How can it be that a witch that has – reportedly – nearly finished her training to become an Auror, how is it even possible that she isn't capable of such a mediocre magic as wandless magic truly is?"

At the moment, Tara desired nothing more than to sink into the stone floor and disappear forever. Her shame was so great that she even stopped thinking about the inappropriate dream she dreamt when she fell asleep that time on that book.

"No doubt that you ended up being nothing more than a secretary – save your vain excuses, they don't interest me." He said with a sneer. He could see he won. He could see her face burning with shame, he could see her eyes were fighting the tears. But then, when he was turning to leave, having forgotten why he had come in the first place, he could hear her shaking voice: "I guess you didn't pay much attention in Muggle studies then."

He turned on the spot, and his face got unpleasantly pale. _How dared she mention their very much private matter out loud in her office, how dared she – she swore she would never tell anyone about it!_

"What did you say?!" He hissed, anger reverberating through every cell in his body.

"Y-You heard me." She said, and straightened her back, pushing her chin forward. Her voice was still quivering, but she took great care to level it. "You are as apt with any woman on Earth as a mountain troll!"

"How dare you mention this–" He growled dangerously, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched. Without realizing it, he drew out his wand.

"People don't take it kindly when when you insult them." She said, not taking her eyes off him.

"I wanted to have a look into the school registry, but I suppose you won't let me now." He spat angrily.

"You guessed that one." She spat back. "Not in a thousand years! And I'll tell you something else – you may think I am not brave enough to contradict you, you may think I'm just a stupid little squeaky office mouse, but as you can see, I can stand up for myself as equally as you can for yourself, and I'm not afraid to do so against you, should you keep insulting me, as long as you refuse to acknowledge and treat me as a friend."

-oOo-

 _Although not as widely used today, spells for enhancing human strength are not unheard of. Any wizard who finds himself or herself in times of need, can by concentrating his or her magical energy into a distinctive part of his or her body make this desired joint stronger. Experiments with increasing the wizard's speed are not uncommon, but together with the empowering charms, this technique has many drawbacks and disadvantages…_

-oOo-

"Sorry, Tara." He mumbled as he was uncorking the already half-empty vial of Cibus. "You're in my way." Using his extensive knowledge of the many hidden passages and shortcuts of the castle, he was in her office in no time. Pulling out the heavy registry book, he quickly looked up Potter's name. There it was: _Harry Potter, currently resident in 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Relatives: Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Dudley Dursley, all resident likewise; Rose Gallagher, 11 Argleton, Aughton, West Lancashire, England._ He couldn't believe it. He now had a direct access to her, he knew where her house was, he could call on her any day… His heart was thumping in his ears so loudly he was seriously worried that Albus could walk in on him. He was about to put the registry back where it belonged, when he spotted the infamous book on the table, the book he wanted. The unlucky tome over which they've spent the last week bickering. He gave a soft smirk and with no further looking back, he took the book from the desk and hid it under his cloak.


	7. Chapter 7

_Concentrate the magic energy into my hand…_

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Focusing energy into her right hand, she stood there in the dark dungeon room, taking deep breaths. Good. The power in her right hand felt overwhelming.

 _Run for it…_

Taking a step backwards, she sprang forward and with a little run-up, she quickly neared the stone wall.

 _Impact._

She hit the stone wall with her fist, breaking through the stone as if it were made of paper. She didn't know what she expected to see, maybe a crack in a stone, or nothing at all, but what she didn't expect was for the stone wall to crumble down like a big flat biscuit that has been sat down on and crushed. The whole castle quaked with the force of her blow. She could hear cries of fear and worry, they all must have been thinking something exploded in the dungeons. Her heart was pounding with fear. Was she to be caught red handed and gibbetted? _No. I haven't done anything wrong,_ she thought _. My uncle ordered me to do this. I mustn't fail._ She could hear footsteps in the corridor. It was time to act. But her right arm was limply hanging by her side and felt strangely motionless. She took her wand with her left hand, then, and pressing herself against the wall, she directed the last efforts of her calm mind at this one word: _Occulto_.

The pattern of the stone bricks soon began to spread across the skin of her body and the fabric of her clothes: She fused with the wall so well that no one could ever distinguish she was ever there. Seconds later, Umbridge appeared, shouting: "I swear, whoever's wreaked this havoc will be out of the castle sooner than they could say Madam Undersecretary! This way!" She looked hysterically funny as she was running on her short, fat legs towards a culprit she was bound never to find. Tara had to suppress a derisive sneer, however, the smirk disappeared from her face as soon as she spotted the well-familiar Potions Master, who was following the Under-secretary as slowly as he could possibly afford – but still, his pace was quicker than usual.

"Obviously, there's nobody here, Professor." Snape said derisively and leaned on the doorframe lazily.

"I asked you to search the dungeons, Professor, and I expect you'll do your duty well!" Umbridge shouted from the other end of the corridor. Tara didn't dare to breathe. Snape stuck his head into the dark cave of the newly exposed, half destroyed castle cavity, as if he expected the culprit to hide in the debris. Then his dark eyes searched the corridor briskly and Tara couldn't resist the creeping fear that he might find her. And then, his onyx eyes rested exactly on the part of the castle wall where she was standing. Tara didn't dare to breathe, even to think, because she was afraid he could somehow sense her mind's presence.

"Well, Snape?" Tara could hear Umbridge's unpleasant, shrill voice.

"Nothing." He said icily, not missing a beat, slowly took his eyes off Tara's camouflaged body and walked out of the corridor, following Umbridge's scuttling footsteps and shrill orders. When they were gone, Tara let out a loud sigh of relief, peeled off the wall and with her right hand still somehow dumb, she began walking slowly towards her room. _Enough destruction for tonight_ , she thought. Just as she was rounding the corner, there was a voice that made her jump up half a metre in terror.

"I've always thought you would be the last person imaginable who would be capable of damaging the school property."

She turned around. It was her uncle. The blood in her veins turned cold, but then she spotted his mischievous smile on his thin lips.

"I'm sorry." She whispered shamefully.

"I've always believed that if people break the rules, they usually have a good reason for it." He prompted her.

"I've been carrying out the task you've set me, uncle."

"Successfully, I presume?"

"I doubt it." Said another voice. Snape was leaning on the corridor doorway again, having ditched Umbridge somewhere; his expression now relaxed and slightly frowning, but his eyes bore a spark of curiosity. "When I last checked upon her, Headmaster, she was attempting non-verbal magic like a first-year student." Snape sneered.

"Save your criticism after you will've seen the show, Severus." Dumbledore said calmly. "Unlike you, I don't anticipate failure in advance."

"I don't know if I can do another one, uncle…" Tara began with some hesitation, but Snape's look of contempt put a new flurry of determination into her veins. "I…" She blushed, "I think I've discovered a way for wizards to increase their physical power."

Dumbledore stroke his white beard pensively: "I've heard about wizards attempting to gain superhuman strength before, but that would require an excessive amount of a wizard's magic and an excellent skill to manipulate that magic. Let's see what you have to show us, my dear."

"I'll have to do it with my left hand though." Said she, "my right feels strangely numb."

"You clearly overdid it." Snape smirked. Dumbledore noiselessly vawed his wand and the broken wall repaired itself in an instant.

Just like before, Tara stepped back a little, putting her right foot behind her left to have a better take-off. Running towards the newly-repaired stone wall as quickly as she could, she balled up her left fist and jumping towards the wall, she hit it with all her might. The wall crumbled instantly, but this time, she took even half the neighbouring walls with it, as well as a part of the ceiling.

"I knew the culprit was still there!" They all heard Umbridge screech, and just as the little fat woman was rounding the corner into the corridor, her uncle cast a Disillusionment charm upon her.

"H-Headmaster?" Umbridge came to a halt and seemed genuinly surprised to see the old man in the dungeons.

"Professor Umbridge," he gave her a polite nod, "I can see that you've taken it upon yourself to find the person responsible."

"That I did, Dumbledore." She breathed out, still trying to catch her breath.

"Well, professor, your search has come to an end. As I was just demonstrating to Professor Snape, I've busied myself recently with discovering some new explosive spells I could make use of."

"And what, pray tell, would you use them for?" Snapped Umbridge and not seemed to be convinced at all.

"You see, professor, Hagrid and I've been contemplating expanding the lake on the school grounds." Said the Headmaster with a kind smile. Snape seemed skeptical and Umbridge looked utterly baffled.

"The lake?" She stated in disbelief.

"Yes, the lake. Professor Hagrid is of the opinion that the giant squid is getting bored when it's on its own in the lake. Currently, Professor Hagrid is looking for a suitable mate—"

"A mate?!" Cried Umbridge. "Headmaster, are you quite serious? This is a school, not a— freak show!"

"Professor Umbridge, Hagrid wouldn't like to hear you said that." Dumbledore gave a concilliatory smile and giving a polite nod to Severus, he added: "Would you care for a late night cup of tea, professor? Perhaps I could explain the situation with the squid…" The wall silently repaired itself again as the Headmaster and the Undersecretary were slowly walking away. When they were gone, the Disillusionment charm lifted itself off her.

"He was joking about the second squid, wasn't he?" Tara asked, her voice tight with worry.

"Knowing Hagrid, he probably wasn't." Snape growled, then, giving her a proper look, he cried: "Are you alright?"

Both Tara's arms were hanging helplessly at her sides. She gave a painful smirk and said: "I cannot move either of my arms – although the right one is slightly better off than the left."

"That must be the side effect of using the magic so differently to how you're usually used to." He mused. "Are you sure you did it right?"

"I don't know," her eyes were fighting the pain that was pulsing in her muscles. "The account wasn't very detailed…"

"Let's get you to your room." He said sternly, and looking at her with hesitation – was he supposed to support her? – he lead the way.

-oOo-

"It seems that I'm unable to use my arms for a while after I magically increase the strength." Tara explained the next day at breakfast. Snape looked skeptical.

"I've never heard of that sort of magic." From a few chairs afar, Umbridge shot them a dangerous look.

"It's true." Tara hissed. "My arms are back to normal."

"But why would they be temporarily immobile? You must be doing something wrong." Said Snape and sipped his morning black cofee tentatively.

"You look as if you smelt something funny. Don't you like my new power?"

"I don't really like women using physical force." He smirked.

"Right. Go back to your cooking in the dungeons, then." She smirked. His nostrils flared and he exhaled angrily, just about to utter something very rude. Then Tara nudged him, taking a side glance at Umbridge: "She's watching us."

"Yeah, she's taking over the castle. With all these interrogations and the teacher inquisitions and what not, I wouldn't be surprised if the Minister wouldn't soon be bestowing the title of Headmistress upon her shoulders."

"He cannot do that!" She gasped and half the staff table cast her disapproving looks. "The Board of Governors elects the Headmaster." She hissed angrily, pretending to mind her own plate.

"Yes, but you're forgetting two important things: Malfoy is its Chairman and the members are Ministry-appointed employees."

"But the Board–"

"They'll soon be all blackmailed, you stupid cow." He snarled. "Better pack your suitcases while you can, Dumbledore's not going to hold much longer."

"But I was asked to keep an eye on Potter!" She hissed angrily.

"Leave him to others." He mumbled, barely audibly. Tara cast him a curious look, but knew she shouldn't inquire more, so she got back to her breakfast.

Unfortunately, Snape's predictions were soon fulfilled. In one eventful evening, Potter's illegal group was discovered and her uncle took the blame on himself. Tara knew damn well why he did so, although Potter looked absolutely heartbroken: The moment Harry Potter would leave the school grounds, the Death Eaters would be hot on his heels. It was essential to keep him at school. And Tara was there to protect him.

However, even Tara's career ended sooner than she thought, not long after her uncle was forced out of the castle: Seeing Umbridge torture one of the fourth-years for being too fond of Harry Potter, she couldn't stand it anymore and threw herself in between them.

"You cannot do that!" She yelled, shielding the poor boy with her own body.

"You get out of my way!" Shrieked Umbridge. "Shut up and get back to your dingy office, mouse!"

"If I have to duel you, I will!" Tara cried, but her soul felt much much smaller in fact.

"Enough!" Shrieked the ugly witch. Then she gave a vicious smirk and added in her normal, awfully sweet voice: "You're fired."

Seeing Tara's shocked voice, the witch cackled: "Yes, I wanted to do this for months. The moment you first got in my way, in fact."

"All right." Tara smirked, turning on her heel and marching through the corridors. She could feel the eyes of the students on her back, but she didn't care. There was only one thing on her mind now: Revenge.

"So, you finally managed to get yourself sacked?" Snape said as he joined her. Tara noticed he was holding his wand in his hand. Was he getting ready for something, too?

"Shut up, or I'll punch you too, Snape." Tara said, and, stopping in front of Umbridge's office, she took a deep breath. Then she sprang towards the wall, and the Potions Master could only take one shocked step backwards as she shattered the entire wall into pieces. Although the door had a big number of protective spells placed onto it, it was buried somewhere beneath the debris, intact – Umbridge charmed the door, but not the entire wall.

"Students wreaking havoc in the castle!" They could hear Filch screeching as he hobbled towards them. His eyes were grotesquely popped out as he saw the entirety of Umbridge's office exposed.

"Wh-Who did this?!" Yelled the schoolkeeper, his chin trembling. "Oh, Madam Headmistress won't be happy about this, no, she won't be happy at all." Filch smirked, and it suddenly seemed he enjoyed the situation immensely. "She'll have to do a thorough investigation, she will, and the little rogues will have to spill the beans, they will, oh, I wish she let me use my thumb-twisting chains, oh, I hope she will."

"No interrogations shall be necessary, Mr Filch." Said Tara calmly, took another sprint across Umbridge's office, and shattered the outer wall with her left hand.

"YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!" Yelled Umbridge and as she was raising her hand with her wand, there was a flash of red-and-golden flames, and Dumbledore's voice bellowed through the Entrance Hall: "I've never truly left the school, Dolores!" Then Tara touched the fiery phoenix's tail feathers and vanished.

-oOo-

"You messed up." Her uncle said, looking truly angry for the first time Tara knew him. They were sitting in Hog's Head and Aberforth wasn't particularly happy to see his brother scolding his beloved great-granddaughter.

"I might have." Tara retorted, "but I disagree with your abominable policy to give all the special attention and support to Potter only. There are other children who needed to be protected, too."

"Don't play the hero here, Tara." Her uncle scolded.

"Hey," Aberforth meddled in the argument, facing Albus directly face to face. "She has more guts to face evil than you've ever had, than you ever will. So don't lecture her what she should or shouldn't've done. From what I've heard, the Potter boy is one piece of a brat and the bitch is wreaking havoc in the school. I hear the bigger kids talking about it all the time in the inn, that she's torturing them and locking them up and not giving them enough to eat and what not. If someone messed up, it was you. It was always you."

Her uncle shot her a glance: It was the strangest look Tara ever received, there was everything – hurt and pain, anger and sadness, hatred and love. Before he disappeared in another shot of golden flames, she heard him say: "Stay here. Don't go anywhere, they're looking for you. _Stay here_."

-oOo-

"Miss Henley's gone." He murmured, and leaned on the cold mirror in his bathroom. He wasn't really fond of her, God forbid, but he doubted he could ever get any closer to her: The only person who could teach him how to approach her, and the only person who was educating him regularly about various tastes and distastes of women was now gone. Will he miss her? No, he didn't think so. She was bearable enough, but he sure wouldn't miss her.

-oOo-

"I'm asking you again, Snape: Who taught her to use superhuman strength? Was it Dumbledore?" Snapped Umbridge. The Potions Master was sitting cross-legged in one of her armchairs, looking comfortable and undisturbed.

"I'm telling you – I don't know." Snape said calmly.

"I know damn well you're friends!" She yelled, spit flying in every direction.

"We're nothing like that." Snape said, his eyes cold, his voice levelled. "She's Dumbledore's pet and she's been chasing me since the day she was hired here – I don't know why. I hold nothing but contempt towards her."

-oOo-

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months – and he suddenly found himself staring at her empty chair at the staff table. She has gotten under my skin, he thought angrily, but he had to admit he missed her. He tried to fool himself, he tried to convince himself that he missed just the secret advice that she was giving him, but he knew he was making a fool of himself. Yet, he didn't want to cease trying to win Rose's heart – or to get himself acquainted with her, at least.

"I've made up my mind." He growled one evening and smashed the Potions and Poisons tome on the top of the essays he was supposed to be marking.

"Good for you." Said his painting lazily. The dark-haired, beautiful woman really didn't seem to be much concerned.

"I'm going to go there, Emma. I'm going to see her."

"Careful, the barman won't like it." Said Emma.

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked sharply.

"What are YOU talking about?" Said Emma, annoyed.

"I was talking about Rose Gallagher." Said he. Just the sound of her name escaping his lips aloud made him tremble.

"I was talking about Tara Henley." Said the girl.

"I don't need her anymore." He said coolly. "She gave me all the advice she could and besides, I've got you if something was unclear. Let her stay in Hogsmeade where she belongs."

"I cannot believe you said that." Whispered the girl on the painting and as Snape was shutting the door of his bathroom to shave, she let one single tear escape her beautiful brown eye.

-oOo-

It was dark in Waterford. The street lamps were alight, and it was raining. Rose just parked her car on the driveway next to her house and was just walking towards her entrance, carrying a big handbag and multiple shopping bags, when she noticed someone watching her from the pavement. She turned sharply around, and saw a man standing tentatively amongst the bushes. He was watching her.

"Who are you?" She called, her voice a bit shaky.

"I live a few houses from here." Said the man. His voice was deep and relaxed, although it quivered with nervousness here and there. "I was just taking a stroll when I saw you park your car and I noticed that when you were getting out, you dropped your purse."

"Really?" Rose said, looking at the blackness of the asphalt, and indeed, her black leather purse was there, laying in a big puddle of water. "Blimey, you're right!" Rose chuckled nervously, and tried to squat down to pick it up, which was no easy feat when you are weighed down by bags and have your highest heels on. The man quickly marched towards her and picked up her purse for her.

"Here you go." He said sternly, but then, a nervous smile spread across his lips.

"Thank you." Rose gave a smile and tried to turn around a bit so that he could slip it into her already full hands.

"I think you can't hold more than you already do, why don't I slip it here into the bag together with the cauliflower?" The man suggested and Rose nodded with a shy smile.

"Ehm, would you – would you open the door for me? I've got my hands quite full at the moment." Rose asked politely, and tried to finger her keys in her handbag.

"Maybe I could hold some of the bags for you instead?" The man suggested. In spite of the rain, he was standing there in brown trousers, white shirt and a grey waistcoat and seemed more dry than it should have been possible. But Rose didn't notice anything of that; she was searching for her keys. When she finally found them and opened the door, she thought it would be impolite not to invite the new neighbour for a cup of tea.

-oOo-

Tara was sitting in her small bedroom in Hogsmeade. Her big, brown eyes were silently staring at the illuminated silhouette of the castle. _Where are you now, Severus?_ She thought and a tear fell down her cheek. _I haven't seen you for so long… Have you forgotten my name? Have you forgotten how I looked like? Where are you now, Severus? Have you figured out my painting yet? Or maybe you don't think about my painting at all? Maybe you threw it away? Maybe you were summoned tonight? I wish you weren't. I always worry so much about you, when you are summoned. Don't play dumb, Severus, I know you are a double agent. My uncle is a brilliant man, does anyone think he would be fooled so easily? You must be a double agent. But on whose side are you now, Severus? I think it's on ours. Especially because of Harry. If you weren't, he could've been killed by your hand long ago. Where are you now, Severus? I'm thinking of you._ Her dark pink lips quivered. She curled up on her bed, drawing her knees under her chin. She knew that her papa couldn't know. He could never know that the man his dear great-granddaughter was in love with was the same man whom he caught on the stairs eavesdropping and who has, up to that day, been banned from the inn when Tara was nine. He could never know that the man his great-granddaughter was thinking about was a Death Eater.

-oOo-

"Your house is impeccable." Said Snape. Rose was bringing a tray with the tea and some cookies into the living room and set it on the coffee table in front of him. Then she sat down in an armchair and pulling out a small notebook, began scribbling into it. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I have a slight problem with my short-term memory." Rose explained with an abashed smile. "What was your name again? I'm sorry."

"Severus." He said sternly. "Severus Snape."

"What an unusual name!" Said Rose.

"Yes, you've asked me about it before, remember?" Snape tried to prompt.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't." She said apologetically.

"Well, my quirky father thought it sounded somewhat dignified." He said.

"Well, interesting." Rose said, trying to establish the conversation, "and did you say what you did for a living?"

"No, I didn't." Snape replied. He didn't know why or how, but he was slowly losing patience with her. Something was terribly wrong, this wasn't how he imagined their first encounter to be like. She wasn't as easy to talk to as Lily was. Their whole conversation seemed forced and awkward – despite the fact he had been rehearsing their encounter on the driveway so thoroughly.

"I'm a teacher."

Earlier that year, Snape and Miss Henley decided it would be best to stick to the truth as close as possible, so he would reveal as much as he possibly could about himself – except the fact he was a wizard, of course.

"You said you were a… GP? That's a type of doctor, right?" He guessed. "Like a doctor for everything?"

"Haven't you been to a GP before?" Rose asked him, quite astonished.

"I-I'm never ill." He said quickly, "so I don't really know who my GP would be."

And the dialogue went on. More strange silences, more hastily answered questions, more instances where Rose wasn't able to remember what they had been talking about, innumerable moments of her scribbling into her notebook. At the end of their tea-date, as Snape called it affectionately in his head, despite the fact they'd spent about an hour chatting together, they didn't seem to know a great deal of information about each other and they awkwardly settled on a date somewhere in June, because Rose went away for a conference and wouldn't be returning until the end of May.

-oOo-

"You don't leave me any other option!" Umbridge cried and with her wand pointed at Harry's forehead, everyone knew what she was about to do. His friends could do nothing, they were held firmly by the Inquisitorial Club members who enjoyed the situation immensely.

"You cannot use an Unforgivable Curse on him!" Hermione squealed and received a violent punch from Crabbe as a result. On that account, Ron began to wrestle with Goyle to free himself and to punch Crabbe into his face to avenge Hermione.

"Stop the bickering or I'll use one on you as well!" Cried Umbridge and with her hand trembling, she turned her wand against Harry again. "You don't leave me any other option, Potter. I have to do it – for the Ministry! You are a dangerous element!" She hissed and took a deep breath. Then, suddenly, the door of her cabinet blew open: The hinges cracked and the wooden board of a door flew to the side. A Stunning Spell followed, hitting Umbridge into her chest and shoving her against the wall.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry gasped, although the silhouette standing in the churning cloud of dust was but a black shadow. Potter knew it was his Headmaster, no one else could produce such a powerful blow with his spell. The Slytherin students immediately released the Gryffindors who didn't even attempt to wrestle their wands back. They all stood in an awkward silence, awaiting their punishment by the Headmaster. Harry knew they were safe. Everything was alright, Sirius was going to be safe. Dumbledore came to rescue them.

To their big surprise, they heard a familiar soft voice saying: "Potter, haven't I told you not to get in trouble?! You were going to get yourself killed!"

"She wouldn't kill him, would she?" Hermione wondered.

"She could've done it. Potter, what were you thinking?!" Miss Henley stepped into the room, her hand stretched out with her wand pointed at everyone and at no one.

"It's just the secretary." Sneered Malfoy and was just about to grab Ginny again when he was petrified by a quick spell sent by Miss Henley.

"If I was just a secretary, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have hired me, Mr Malfoy." She said and glanced at the other Slytherins who instantly shrunk in size. "Professor Dumbledore knew it, Potter. He knew she would end up harming you, sooner or later. I have kept an eye on you for the whole year and when he had to leave the castle and Umbridge put herself in charge, I knew she would attempt to revenge herself. And I also knew that your disrespect for rules will give her the opportunity to do so."

"But why? How? I don't understand." Ron's face was completely blank. "You served as a spy for the whole year when it would have been easier not to hire her at the first place."

"Right, Mr Weasley, but Professor Dumbledore didn't hire her, she was put here by the Ministry. The Minister thinks Dumbledore wants to take over his office, and Umbridge was his way of knowing. So Professor Dumbledore put me as his secretary to shield him a bit from her sniffing around, and I have to say, she gave me hell of a time sometimes."

"We have to go." Harry said abruptly, and Miss Henley's eyebrows cocked up. "Someone's in danger, and we have to save him."

"May I know who that someone might be?" She asked casually, fingering her wand.

"No, you may not." Harry retorted. The others gave him a sharp glance.

"I'm afraid you're not going anywhere, Potter, unless the Headmaster allows it." She said.

"You are not my babysitter." Harry snapped.

"Wrong, Potter, this is exactly my job. If you insist on leaving, I'll have to tie you to your chair for your own safety."

At this precise moment, all the Gryffindors wrenched their wands from the Slytherins and there were two Stunning Spells hitting Miss Henley square into her chest. She landed on a chair which got smashed under the weight of her body. Consequently, all the Slytherins were stunned and while the rest of the Gryffindor party was recovering from what had just happened, Hermione knelt beside the still-unconscious Umbridge and was already using a Memory spell on her.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry asked, puzzled. His friend gave him an annoyed look and said: "Harry, when Umbridge wakes up, she'll realise what has happened and has Miss Henley put in Azkaban in no time. She was trying to protect you, over all, didn't she, Miss Henley?"

"Yeah, you're right." Harry mumbled. "Let her think someone broke in here and got them all Stunned, including Miss Henley. But… Will she be alright? Miss Henley?"

"We'll see." Said Hermione, and watching the others use Umbridge's fireplace to Floo to the Ministry. Right before she stepped into the fire, she bellowed: "BURGLARS! THIEVES! HELP!"

There was the sound of footsteps on the corridor and before Filch and Snape entered the office, Hermione was gone.

"Where's Potter?" Hissed Snape, helping Miss Henley get up. Filch was already supporting Umbridge, who was still staggering and seemed unable to walk straight.

"I don't know, they… They stunned me, they… Potter said that someone was in danger and that they had to rescue him." She said in a soft voice. Professor Snape's eyes widened. He propped her up against the wall and said:

"Filch, be so kind as to take Madame Headmistress to the hospital." Snape growled. Filch threw him a disdainful look and supported Umbridge's half-conscious form across the corridor away from her nearly destroyed office.

He turned back to Miss Henley, whose knees trembled violently: "I have to check with the others. Try to get to the hospital wing."

"Wait," he heard her say, "if that is true– If the Ministry is really where they went– If it is true what the others said, that the Department of Mysteries is– If the Department of Mysteries is where they went, you need my help. I know the place well. Quick, make haste, check what you have to check and help me get to London. With my help, they can find Potter in no time."

He nodded: "I'll get you to London."

"Can you make a Portkey?"

"No, but the Headmaster can."

"Should we alert him?"

"That Potter's wreaking havoc again? I don't think so. If the Headmaster had to intervene every time Potter's up to no good, he would be constantly hot on his heels. Come on!"

"There's one thing I know for sure." She breathed out as they ran through the corridors. "Whomever is supposed to be at the Department of Mysteries, they're not there. You just don't hide a living person in there somewhere, for whichever reason that would be. The area is a number one priority for the Ministry, whomever is there that should not be there for longer than an hour, they'll know–"

He casted her another pensive look: "I know."

They ran up staircases and dashed through corridors and finally they burst into Dumbledore's office. They found the man ready for departure, fully dressed and pointing his wand at a crystal goblet.

"Miss Henley, I've just created a Portkey for you, it will take you to the Grimmauld Place. Get as many members as you can – without Sirius Black of course – and take them straight to the department. The rooms are full of intricate confusing mechanisms and you're the only one who can manage to get through. You don't have to participate in the imminent fight, I know I'm already asking too much–"

"No problem, sir, I'll gladly do anything I can to help." Miss Henley gave a polite smile.

"Severus, I don't think it would be proper for you to–"

"Neither do I, Headmaster." He answered curtly.

These were the final words Miss Henley could hear before she disappeared.

She arrived at Grimmauld Place and the world around her spun violently. She could see two men jump up from the kitchen table, however, her vision was blurred and her stomach was turning. Her knees got weak and she ended up on the floor.

"You're Dumbledore's secretary, aren't you? What happened?" The man with long hair asked. He looked seriously concerned.

"I am to get as many members of the Order as I possibly can. We have to go to the Ministry right now, Potter's in danger." She breathed out and was thankful for being helped onto a chair.

"What do you mean, Harry's in danger?" The other man, the blue-eyed one with a short moustache, asked.

"He said he had to save someone at the Department of Mysteries. I worked there, I know the place well and I know what he says is not possible. His friends stunned me and they all got away, probably to the Ministry." She explained and was grateful for the glass of Firewhiskey the long-haired man handed her.

"Merlin's beard!" Cried the other one and ran out from the kitchen.

"You did well to tell us." Her companion looked at her with a sympathetic smile. "It's probably a trap, Remus went to get the others, we'll arrive at the Ministry straight away and we'll save Harry from whomever is waiting for him there."

"It's the Death Eaters, isn't it?" She asked. "They lured him there so that they could trap the boy and bring him to You-Know-Whom."

"I'm glad you too believe that he's back." The man gave her another smile and a pat at her hand. "We must save him, that's the most important thing right now."

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore said that Sirius Black was not to go." She remembered suddenly and the man's smile disappeared.

"Why, that's me– Don't tell me he expects me to sit here on my butt till the others save my godson!" He cried.

"Sirius Black is not to go." She repeated stubbornly.

"Look, Dumbledore's Sheep, I greatly appreciate what you did, but you're not holding me back here. I can decide for myself whether I go or not!" He snapped.

"Sirius, behave yourself." Remus cut him short and there was a bunch of other people running into the kitchen and getting ready.

"Where are we going?" The pink-haired witch asked.

"To the Department of Mysteries." Said Miss Henley and got up.

"You're not going with us, it's too dangerous." An old man gave a harsh growl. She suddenly recognised the famous Auror, Alastor Moody.

"I worked there. If you want to find the boy real quick, you need my help."

"Brilliant, let's go!" Cried Remus and they all disappeared in the fireplace, one after the other.

"This way!" Cried Miss Henley as they turned another corner.

"Wow, we're really lucky to have you, all these black corridors seem the same to me!" Cried the pink-haired witch. Suddenly, they arrived at a room which began to turn the doors on the walls as soon as the last member of the group entered.

I hope the spells still work, thought Miss Henley. Aloud, she just cried: "Commuto!"

The wall with the door began to turn again and when it stopped, she said: "We don't know where they are, any suggestions where they might have been lured to?"

"If there is a room with all the Prophecies, that would be it." Said Remus.

"Ok, it's the second door on the left. Let's go!" Cried Miss Henley and she was glad no one questioned her going with the group. She was determined to do the right thing and to fight anyone who would harm Potter, just as she promised Professor Dumbledore to do.

"Potter, I'm gonna get you to the exits as fast as I can!" Huffed Tara as she ran behind the black haired boy who, thanks to his fit frame, was always a bit faster than her.

"But I don't wanna get away, I wanna kill Bellatrix–"

"That's what Professor Dumbledore told me to do!" Yelled the secretary and as they rounded the corner. Suddenly, a spell shattered the wall above their heads. One Death Eater was pursuing them and was drawing very very close.

"RUN!" Tara bellowed and gave Harry a mighty push into the small of his back. The boy staggered, and as the Death Eater cast another spell, Tara quickly conjured a shield spell to deflect the spell from Harry and shouted: "NOW!"

Reluctant to leave her behind, Harry continued to run into the atrium.

"Stupid girl." Hissed the Death Eater, "do you really think you can face me alone?"

"I will do my best." Said Tara through her gritted teeth and the battle of spells began. The Death Eater was very skilled with his wand and he used nonverbal spells which made the situation for Tara even hotter. As she tried to deflect his jinxes and fire her own, preventing herself from saying them aloud – it was a long time ago when she needed to use nonverbal spells and she wasn't that deft in them – it seemed to her that his jinxes are of mild nature, and she began wondering why was the Death Eater so easy on her. Just as if he could read Tara's hesitation in her mind, he gave her a mighty blow with a Corpus Venti charm. As Tara was struggling to make her diaphragm work, she could hear his throaty, derisive laugh. Then she managed to end the spell with a non-verbal Finite, when her wand jumped out of her hand. She was disarmed.

"I wonder whether Dumbledore will miss his favourite pet?" He whispered. Tara's ears coloured in anger. Although bereft of a wand, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, she thought. Taking a step back, she kicked off the ground and was now literally flying toward the man. In a split second, she overcame the distance which was separating them, about twenty metres, and with her hand mightily clenched into a tight fist, she gave him a punch into his stomach. The poor villain flew through the air and only the nearest wall was able to stop him, having formed mighty cracks itself as a result of his impact.

And then she could hear the bellowing of Remus and Sirius who were drawing dangerously close as their running footsteps echoed in the Ministry corridors: "The aurors have all the Death Eaters, Tara! We're almost there!"

"I guess here the fun ends, Miss Secretary." She could see Severus Snape's smirk as he made his silver mask disappear with a wave of his hand in front of his face. He had great difficulty to talk, and Tara noticed there was a trickle of blood coming out of one corner of his mouth.

"S-Severus…" She whispered in amazement. The sound of footsteps was getting nearer and nearer. Snape's smirk froze on his lips. But suddenly, something strange happened: He saw the office kneazle of a secretary running towards him, and then she pushed him gently against the wall again, as he was just about to try to get up, and pressed herself insufferably close against him. No, pressed wasn't the right word. She clung to him like a Muggle plaster cast clings to one's skin, and she stretched her arms and legs to the sides to touch the wall. And then – he couldn't believe his eyes – they went invisible. The black bricky design on the Ministry wall spread across her arms and legs and when it reached her torso, it began to spread across him as well. He could feel her breasts being pressed against his chest into pies, but he was too taken aback to allow his body react as it probably would otherwise. He could see her gaze fixed at his face and he could feel her shallow, rapid breath at his neck, but he feared to move. He didn't dare to breathe, because he didn't know how effective the spell – or whatever it was that she did – was at cancelling noise. Black, Lupin, Tonks and several other Aurors ran by, panting, and he could hear their voices as they ran, believing they would find the secretary further in the Ministry lobby. And finally, there was silence. The bricky design spread back at the walls where it belonged.

"A bit taken aback, are you?" She asked, and now it was her turn to smirk. He couldn't manage a word. The only sounds he was capable of were a stummering: "How– When– Why–"

"I don't want them to take you to Azkaban." She said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious answer on the world. Then she grabbed his hand and pulling his gobsmacked body after her, she hissed: "Come on, let's get you out of here, Mr Death-Eater."

And opening a secret passage behind a painting of a Victorian-dressed witch holding a candelabra, she dragged him behind to safety.

"Shouldn't you be protecting Potter in the atrium right now?" Was the first sentence he managed to utter. He sounded grotesque, so confused and out-of-the-ordinary that he wondered why wasn't she laughing at him yet.

"Professor Dumbledore has the situation fully under control over there." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth for her to know what the other people were doing at the exact moment. She continued to drag him through the barely lit corridor as quickly as his confused feet allowed him to go.

"Can you walk?" She asked with concern, as she spotted his sore body staggering after her.

"Are you his incarnation, or how exactly do you know where he is right now?" He asked – too harshly and too cheekily, as he realised seconds later.

"Stop your wittering or I'll damp you back where you deserve." She snapped at him and for the first time – for the second time if he didn't count the incident at the Great Hall with the pumpkin juice – she managed to silence him. So he stumbled behind her in the dark corridor, grateful for her help and willing to be dragged wherever she deemed was safe for him to go. He didn't ask, he didn't object, because he realised that only her firm faith in Dumbledore's choices – in Dumbledore's conviction that he, Severus Snape, was uninvolved and on their side – only her firm belief had him zigzagging the Ministry walls for safety right now. He realised that should he be found by Lupin and the other Aurors, his career at Hogwarts would have been over. So he resolved to trust her explicitly, without any questions, as she had done with him long ago.

"Mind your head." She said, but it was too late, in the next second, he hit his forehead against a stony arch which held a wooden door, too low for any ordinary person to walk through – and as he stepped into the light, he realised they were being passed by unsuspecting Muggles on a busy London street.

"How did you– When did you–"

But in the next moment, he found himself being squeezed by the too familiar forces of Apparition, and he felt her hand gripping his so tightly he was convinced she would make his hand sore.

As he landed in the fresh, dewy grass near Hogwarts, he couldn't even believe he nearly escaped conviction.

"The others will hate me for this." He breathed out as he stood up next to Miss Henley who was looking at him with an amused glance.

"Would you rather keep them company?" She winked and started to walk towards Hogwarts. He stood, watching her in disbelief. She behaved as if nothing happened. As if she just hadn't broken any wizarding law by helping an escapee Death Eater. As if she hadn't tricked the dark wizard hunters and as if she hadn't pressed herself against him in the most inappropriate manner. As if she didn't use her secret knowledge of the Ministry – a knowledge she had probably sworn never to make use of again as she stopped working as an Unspeakable. As if she hadn't just imparted this secret knowledge indirectly onto a Death Eater. As if she hadn't literally kidnapped him back to Hogwarts. As if she didn't punch him in the stomach so hard that he would swear his body must have suffered multiple injuries.

"What are you waiting for, Professor Snape?" She asked him with a smile, apparently enjoying his befuddled expression.

"It's Severus." He blurted out the first sensible thing that came to his mind and walked slowly towards her, stretching out his hand. _She must think I'm a complete idiot_ , he thought.

"Tara." She gave him a wide smile and her eyes twinkled. She shook his hand cordially and turned to the castle again. With much hesitation, he said: "Thank you, Tara."

"Uh-uh." She whimpered and her cheeks went purple. As the adrenaline in her veins faded, she was back to her timid self.

-oOo-

"Dumbledore, I want Tara initiated into this." Snape marched into the Headmaster's office and his attitude suggested he would accept no compromise.

"So you two have at last became friends, hm?" Asked Dumbledore, who tried to look peacefully above it all, but he couldn't, because his cursed hand hurt him more than usual that day.

"I don't want her to think I'm a murderer as everyone else will think. I don't mind everyone else, but I do care what she thinks." Snape said, avoiding eye contact.

"So is it about something more than a friendship?" Albus leaned across the table with a wide smile and for a tiny moment forgot about the immense pain.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Snape snapped, but then continued in a milder tone. "I don't want her to think I killed her uncle. When you kill someone's family member, they take it quite personally. I don't think she would be nice and compliant when I become Headmaster, and this would inevitably lead to trouble. I don't know how to run the school, Dumbledore, she does. I would be a fool to turn her against me."

"You're right." Dumbledore nodded.

"Besides, I need to protect her. She once mentioned to me that the Death Eaters and especially the Dark Lord would love to play with her if they ever knew who she was."

"Doesn't that have to do with the fact she's my niece?"

"No, she told me that even before you told her you were her uncle."

"Severus, I have been kept in the dark about Tara's immediate family and past life as completely as you have been. You can ask her later. Do you happen to remember whether she's in Voldemort's bad books?"

"Not herself personally, definitely. It must have something to do with who her parents were. If they ever offended the Dark Lord somehow and were eliminated as a response, I know nothing of it."

"I'm still glad you decided to keep Tara here anyway. She'll be safe here. Hogsmeade will be swarming with Death Eaters and the poor girl wouldn't be safe with Aberforth."


	8. Chapter 8

**Guys, I'm so, sooo sorry I didn't upload sooner! Work always tends to get in the way, somehow…**

 **I hope you'll like this chapter! Thank you for all your reviews and support!**

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"Maybe you should start with the small things." Said Severus. The two friends were casually sitting in his rooms, in front of the fireplace.

"Hm." Tara was just serving the midnight tea. They rarely had the opportunity to chat into the early morning hours like this, but Severus' work has rapidly diminished since the next day was supposed to be the last day of the summer term, and Tara has just returned into the school - although there wasn't much for her to do anyway. "I tried the small things, you know, breaking a table or crushing a small stone in my hand (she could see Severus smirk after she gave the list of the seemingly impossible things she now called 'little'), but no matter what amount of strength I use, no matter whether I use just one finger or the entire arm, there's always some area affected. With the bigger punches, I cannot move my entire arm, with breaking the table, I couldn't only use the edge of my hand and apart from that being immobile, my entire arm felt just weak."

Severus snorted.

"I still don't like your way of dealing with this. Your uncle told you to find anything to use in combat without a wand, and the first logical response of all ordinary people would be to improve their wandless magic. But no, you have to be running around and punching things like some bloody mountain troll."

"Maybe I would have ended up using wandless magic if you didn't ridicule me for it. Do you expect everyone to be fully capable without attempting first? You are like that in teaching too, by the way." She said casually, swinging one leg over the armrest of her chair. The man clad in black threw her a disdainful look.

"Yeah?" He said, tension building up in his voice, "why don't you try teaching a room full of dimwitted twits six hours a day and babysitting them for the rest of the day, hm?"

"You know damn well that I've once substituted for you, Severus." She retorted, "and they weren't as bad back then. You just have to have more patience with some of them, praising them for achievements the rest of the class could do single handedly. Not everyone's on the same level."

"Well, I'm not a patient man." He sniffed, and folded his arms on his chest. "And I dare you to try teaching for a little while again sometimes, to rid yourself of those silly ideals."

"You're a pessimist."

"What's there in life to be optimistic for?"

"Your love life, of course." She grinned at him. "I'm eagerly awaiting the news! Did you two go out yet?"

"H-Who told you?!" He barked. He had a strong impression that his private life was his own matter. Since when did the gossip start circulating the school?!

"She did." Tara jerked her head towards the portrait of a beautiful girl which hung above Severus's plush chair by the library.

"She – wait." He said, his eyes travelling from the girl painted on the canvas to the woman who was sitting leisurely on his chair and back. Then the truth finally set in: They were identical. The same long black curly hair. The same sly smirk. The same red lips. The same porcelain skin. The same long lashes.

He jumped up and pointing in turn at the picture and at his friend, he cried: "She-You-You–"

"Blimey, Severus, I thought you figured out long ago!" Tara said, her eyebrows raised, and watched his confusion with amusement.

"At first I thought– But she's so, so different! You don't–"

"I have known the artist who painted this picture for years. He's a great man, you should meet him sometimes. He is the son of the bookshop owner in Hogsmeade, we were childhood friends, so he knows a lot about me. He knows that every women is a bitchy, cunning wretch on the inside. So, how about the date?"

"I staged a convenient way for us to meet. What I didn't anticipate, though, is the strangeness of it all." He was forced to admit, his shoulders stooping a bit.

"Did it feel weird?"

"All new encounters feel a bit weird. No, this one was uncomfortable, and forced. I've got a feeling that she accepted only out of politeness, not because she would really like to."

"Maybe it _was_ forced, Severus. Why this woman? Why her? Why force something that just cannot be helped? Maybe you're too different. Maybe she's just… not for you."

"But why?" He cried, and slammed his fist at the coffee table that separated them. "Why?! Why can't it be the way it is with you?"

Tara reached for her tea cup abruptly, to hide the fact she was blushing.

"Some people are just more suited for each other than others." She whispered, barely audibly, and she was almost sure her friend couldn't have heard her.

"Then say something, tell me what should I do?" He asked desperately.

Tara sighed: "Why don't you give it a break, Severus? I reckon you're just too pushy."

"I don't want to give it a break, don't you understand? I have to have her!"

"Severus, you're insane! Has anyone slipped you a love potion? Why her? Tell me, why exactly this woman when there are millions of other women on the world?"

"Because she is Lily's sister." He breathed out in defeat.

"Lily's? Don't tell me – Lily Potter's?!"

"Yes."

"How-How do you know?!"

"Potter told me. I suppose Black told him. Apparently, they kept her a secret from him, too–"

"Now listen to me, Severus." Tara rose from her armchair and knelt in front of him, taking his hands into hers and looking straight into his onyx eyes without blinking. "You leave her alone, you get it? I tell you something." She took a deep breath. "This woman you're talking about personally witnessed the murder of the Potters. She hid in Harry's wardrobe, and was forced to watch the entire drama. When the Ministry officials got there and attempted to perform an ordinary Memory Charm, they couldn't because she had went crazy. They kept her at the Department of Mysteries for some time and eventually, they managed to rid her of the insufferable memories that were haunting her consciousness. What they did was remarkable and too huge of a spell to perform under normal circumstances: They managed to cure her, but her memory got permanently damaged. And it is vital she stays the way she is, do you understand? Anything that could cause her to remember, a spell, an object, a name – anything could bring her lunacy back. I don't know how Potter managed to track her, I don't know how did you, but that doesn't matter, I'm asking just one thing of you – leave her be. Your actions could have unprecedented consequences."

-oOo-

"Would you fancy a chat, my dear?" She was so used to her uncle's sudden appearances in the corridors that she didn't even twitch. They walked out of the school building, and onto the school grounds. All the students left in the morning, and Tara suddenly realised how pleasant it was to have the castle only for themselves. The bright sun was shining hot and she soon started to feel hot and sweaty.

"Severus tells me how painful it is for you to use your new technique. Do you want to tell me how you stumbled upon it in the first place?"

"I found it in a book." Tara said, her brown eyes watching the old man striding beside her with interest. He didn't seem to mind the heat at all – on the contrary, he looked as comfortable as ever. How does the old buffer do that? Tara thought. "I would never think the book could ever contain magic like that – I mean, a lot of wizards would consider it a great offence to be told not to use their wand, even Severus doesn't approve – and then I went and tried it for myself–"

"Trying out things you read in a book you don't know is a very dangerous thing to do, Tara." Her uncle frowned.

"I-I know." She said, blushing. "But it's not like Ginevra Weasley, you know! Anyway, I did exactly as the book told me to do, and every time I increase the flow of magic in my body and channel it into a physical object, the given limb becomes immobile or hurts a lot."

"Hm." Her uncle rubbed his long beard, thinking. "Have you tried increasing the flow of magic without doing anything else with it? Have you tried just that?"

"No. But what good would it do me? It's no use accumulating the magic I cannot release."

"I'm compelled to think that your muscles cannot withstand the immense energy that you put through them."

"You mean – I'm overstretching myself?"

"I would think so. You should gain some strength into your muscles so that they would be able to endure the enormous strain."

"Alright, I guess a bit of physical exercise wouldn't kill me." Tara said.

What followed in the consecutive weeks could hardly be called 'a bit of physical exercise'. Every morning, Tara was summoned from Hogsmeade to endure whichever form of torture her uncle deemed her fit to go through – starting from weeding Hagrid's garden for six hours straight to carrying heavy sacks of kitchen supplies from Hogsmeade train station, to climbing up the Astronomy Tower using only her hands, or lifting up heavy boulders in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Tara was to eat and sleep plenty and train hard, and of course, she would always help out in the inn over the summer (this time, it took all her mental effort not to refuse her great-grandfather when he came to ask for help), so she had practically no time to speak to Severus. It was the end of summer when she stumbled across Hagrid, who was just hitching himself into a harness for pulling giant, ten-feet-long trees. The man waved at her when he saw her: "Hello, Miss Henley! Haven't seen yer for a while!"

"Hello, Hagrid!" She waved at him and smiled. "I had the impression that I was supposed to bring the trees from the forest into the castle today."

"Professor Dumbledore said somethin' like that, he did." Hagrid scratched his head tentatively. "But he sure didn't mean it, did 'ee? You're as light as a bird, Miss Henley! Surely he–"

"I did mean what I said, Hagrid." The Headmaster said calmly. A light smile lingered on his lips. Tara gave the astonished half-giant a kind smile, then took the leather harness into her hands and strapped it across her torso.

"Don' do that, yer'll hurt yerself–" Was his last attempt. But she didn't listen. The tip of her shoe dug into the ground as she started pulling the tree forward. It went slowly, very, very slowly. A few inches a minute.

"Try harder." Said Dumbledore.

"Aaargh!" Tara gave a frustrated roar, and closing her eyes, she directed all her strength into her legs. The muscles of her thighs contracted. Tara, gritting her teeth, started pulling the tree forward. The woman sped slowly into a walking pace, the muscles of her thighs contracting mightily as she pulled the gigantic tree forward. Droplets of sweat were running down her face, her shoulders, her legs. When she was in a point halfway between the forest and the castle, she suddenly heard her uncle: "Carry it for the rest."

"What?!" She yelled.

"You heard the Headmaster, sissy, lift it up." Said a soft, melting-chocolate voice behind her.

Panting heavily, Tara squatted down to grab the trunk, and growled: "I'm gonna wipe the smug smile off your face, you prick." Taking a few deep breaths, she turned up the heat slowly. The trunk was too heavy, she could never lift it off the ground. Damn it!

"Screw you, Snape!" She groaned, and lifted the trunk above her head. Turning around with it, she marched into the Entrance Hall and down into the kitchens where the elves were amassing the wood for the incoming winter. When she set the tree down amongst the astonished elves, her shaky legs gave way and she collapsed on the floor. Her arms were stiff and immobile, the muscles spasming too.

"That's what you get for competing with Hagrid." Said Snape, strolling into the kitchens like he had nothing better to do.

"Why are you constantly– constantly mocking me?" Tara panted. "Why is– anything I do– not good enough for you?"

"I'm helping you to get stronger, airhead." He mumbled and she realised he was standing just behind her.

"Miss cans't walk, Dobby can help miss–"

"Get lost." Snape barked, and the elf squealed, getting out of sight.

Bending over her, he asked, gentlier than she ever recalled him asking a question: "Can you stand up?"

"I think– I think not." She breathed out.

Then she felt a pair of strong hands lifting her into the air and before she knew how, her colleague was carrying her out of the kitchen – in his arms.

"That's not– You don't have to–" She attempted to explain, wriggling in his grasp.

"Stop twisting, dunderhead, or I'll drop you to the ground where you deserve to be." He growled, slight hint of annoyance present in the way he said it.

"You've certainly did some training yourself." Tara complimented him, trying not to see the ease with which he carried her up the innumerable flights of stairs.

He gave a dark chuckle: "Did you think everyone's as weak as you are, wimpling?" Her cheeks flushed with temper, but she didn't dare say anything. How often had she dreamt, had she visualised the moment Severus Snape would be carrying her in his arms – and yet, when the moment came, she enjoyed it half as much. The circumstances were different – surely, her uncle had sent him to check on her, and nothing more. Surely he was just obeying his command, choosing to carry her solely to demonstrate his own physical capability.

"How comes you're so strong?"

"How comes you're so weak?"

"Don't turn everything I say against me."

She heard his dark chuckle again: "The Dark Lord likes me to run his… _errands_. And things get sticky sometimes, I have to be deft and… quick. And sometimes I just have to forget all spells and jinxes and run as fast as I can." He chuckled again.

"Don't tell me that the infamous lazy Severus Snape, who can't be bothered to lift a finger when it comes to duelling and chooses to fight with his head instead, don't tell me that he knows how to use his legs?"

"Either I'll just forget you've just called me _lazy_ , you ungrateful imp, or I throw you right off the banister. Your choice." He snarled, but there was something hidden beneath, something deeper– maybe a laugh?!

"No– please." She gasped, her voice bouncing with laughter, and desperately grasped the edges of his cloak. She could smell the minty, leathery scent of his. _Oh no_ , she thought, _this is not how it was supposed to be. This is not what I've dreamt about so many times than I can count. We were not supposed to be taunting each other like this. We were not supposed to be ruining this intimate moment by squabbling._ He probably saw it too, how close she was and how she was clinging to him, for he muttered darkly: "Too close."

"I-I'm sorry." She stuttered, and Snape then carried her the rest of the way upstairs without even looking at her.

-oOo-

"Wake up, girl!" Was the first thing she heard the next morning.

"Huh?"

"I said," Minerva tapped her foot impatiently, her arms folded, feeling greatly uncomfortable as she was bending above the sleeping secretary in her room, "get up, and be quick about it!"

"Did my uncle tell you to pester me like this?" Tara yawned, and swung her legs off the bed. _Shit. It hurts. Everything hurts. Just let me die._

"That's more or less what he said I should do, yes." Minerva jabbed her glasses up her nose.

"I kind of… overdid it yesterday and I don't feel great right now." Tara began sheepishly. She had only spoken a few times with the elder witch, and it was always just some basic small talk, so she didn't really know what best to say – she didn't want to sound impolite, after all, she was strangely glad to see her because they haven't seen each other for so long.

"Yes, Albus mentioned something about that. Never mind, get out of bed so that I can proceed in his instructions."

 _I think you misunderstood my point entirely, Minerva._

"Is there… Is there something more to his instructions than 'get out of bed'?" Tara asked shyly.

"Well, as it happens, there is." Minerva turned around and the curtains jumped open. "Meet me in fifteen minutes in the Entrance Hall, we're going to go to the mountains which surround Hogsmeade. Oh, and wear sporty." She added curtly, and marched out of the room. Tara looked at the closed door, befuddled. _What's her problem? Did Albus tell her to treat me like this? Like an undisciplined teenager in a weight-loss camp?_

Nevertheless, she quickly changed and hastily ate her breakfast, not wanting to keep the strict Transfiguration teacher waiting. They walked up the mountains without a single word, which only confirmed Tara's suspicion they won't be friends anytime soon. What a drag, we could surely let off some steam together, we could.

"Now, focus." Minerva said, as if her companion was a bunch of first-year olds who need to be reminded to pay attention. "I was asked to discharge your training today. You'll be dodging wooden bricks that I'll be transfiguring from these stones, and you mustn't be hit once."

I can do this, Tara thought, I'm swift enough!"

"Oh, I forgot to mention that you're forbidden to move your legs." Minerva concluded, and her thin eyebrows cocked up. She had obviously no idea what was going on.

 _How the hell am I supposed to dodge then?!_

"As Albus said it, he expects you to break them with your fists as they get near you. We are to pause when you get tired, and stop entirely when you are exhausted, and we are to return here as many times as it would be necessary to make sure you get agile and as strong as you can be."

Now that's great!

"The Headmaster also told me to give you this." Minerva extended a hand towards her and, with great confusion, Tara saw a pair of leather gloves.

"Gloves?"

"Yes. He had them padded with thin wood plates – the same wood that constitutes your wand."

 _Pear wood in gloves? Wow._

As she put them on, Tara immediately felt a sense of connection between the knuckles of her fingers and the accessory.

"Ready?" Minerva asked, and without missing a beat (or waiting for an answer), she threw the first brick at her. And without moving an inch, the younger woman tore through the wood with her right fist outstretched before her. She could feel a slight twitch in her arm muscle. But she was determined to go through the day with all her might.

-oOo-

"I hear Minerva's been working you hard?" Severus said with a slight smirk as he was smearing moonpetal salve on her spasming arms.

"Oh shut up." Tara breathed out, barely audibly. She lay collapsed in Severus' green armchair by the fire (it was easier to walk to the dungeons than to her room on the fourth floor) and watched him anxiously as he was gently applying the ointment.

"Pardon me?" He asked, and a sly smile was spreading across his lips.

"She made me shatter wood bricks all day." Tara moaned, and closed her eyes tiredly.

"Oh, did she?" Severus said contentedly, clearly taking pleasure in what he was hearing.

"Wipe that smug smile off your face, prick." Tara retorted weakly. She didn't even have the energy to argue with her friend. He gave a chuckle and continued to smear the salve on her arms.

"It's actually pretty impressive." He remarked softly.

"What?!" Her eyes popped open and she jerked upright. "Don't try to suggest that– that you–"

"I still don't approve." He reassured her with a slight smile. "I'm just complementing your hard work and endurance. Not everyone would be able to keep up, you see. Besides, this barbaric way of fighting could actually help you become a better witch."

"You think?" Tara's face beamed and she was suddenly blissfully excited.

"You're working with your inner magic, aren't you? That's always a good exercise. We should have one teensy little friendly skirmish with our wands one day."

"We already had one, remember?" She gave his forehead a light tap.

"I do remember – dunderhead – but you were no match for me then." He gave that sly smile of his again. "To tell you the truth, I doubt you'd be much greater match for me today…"

"Belt up, you, or we can try our luck right here, right now!"

"You're weakened now, that wouldn't be fair thing of me to do." He smirked.

"Oh, what a true gentleman you are!"

-oOo-

"How're things with Severus?" Her uncle bent over her unexpectedly in the office.

"Wh-What do you mean?" Tara blurted and her cheeks got flushed.

"The birds on the roof have told me that he carried you upstairs the other day, as I dismissed you from your training."

"You must be taking some good quality Puzzling Draft if you hear birds talk." She cut him short, not wanting to give out anything else.

"Tara, I have another request for you."

"Yes?" _As if it weren't the millionth request since I've arrived at Hogwarts exactly one year ago to do my goddamn job._

"I have found an object I want to destroy. I'm still figuring out how. Could you come to my office in a few days and see if you could shatter it with that enormous strength of yours?" He gave her a cheeky smile.

"Alright." She said.

"I want you to do some more exercise before you try your luck."

"That's fine too." Said she and bent over the parchment again.

"You'll be supervised by Minerva again."

"Are you expecting me to cheat with my sit-ups?" Said Tara sarcastically.

"No, she's to provide help, should you need it."

-oOo-

Tara was just rounding the last corner that separated her from her office at Hogwarts. She was really looking forward to resuming her work there, after so many months of absence. Before she could reach the door, Severus overtook her and hissing hastily: "I have to speak to you about something urgent.", he pulled her into the nearest empty classroom. They weren't likely to bump into any students there, the term would resume in just few days. Severus looked carefully around and casted a Muffliato spell around them.

"Severus, what's–"

"Now promise me you won't tell anyone about this." He breathed out with much exasperation. "Promise me you'll employ all your Occlumency powers. No one – literally no one – can find out I told you this. I'd be in big trouble."

"Is it something Voldemort's plotting?" Tara asked breathlessly. He nodded. "This is top secret information. He only told his closest followers about this." Her face bore the expression of mixed awe and fear. "I'm literally risking my own life when I'm telling you this."

"Then don't tell me." She said, alarmed. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I have to tell you. It concerns you." He said uneasily.

"Me?" Tara couldn't believe her ears. "Voldemort has plans with… _me_?"

"Not you." Snape said with a grain of contempt in his voice. "The Headmaster."

"Uncle?"

"Yes."

"He'll manage." Said Tara resolutely. "After all, he's the wizard Voldemort has always feared the most, isn't he?"

"The Dark Lord ordered Draco Malfoy to kill him." Hissed Snape, shaking her by her shoulders.

"Malfoy? How on earth could he– When even Voldemort–"

"It's a punishment for his father's mistake at the Ministry." Said Snape, "and his mother made me swear an Unbreakable Vow."

"An Unbreakable Vow about what?"

"Tara," said Severus gently. He had an unusual feeling about him, he had never been a conveyor of such grave news before. "Your uncle has found a very dangerous object belonging to the Dark Lord while on one of his explorations. However, he did a terrible mistake and was affected by a lethal curse placed on that object by the Dark Lord himself. His–"

"Albus is dead?!" Cried Tara and gave a horrid gasp.

"No," said Severus gently and grasped her shoulders softly. "I've contained the curse in his right hand, but it will kill him eventually."

"When?" Squealed Tara, her eyes watery.

"In a year," said Severus softly, so softly that he was whispering, "maybe sooner."

"Isn't– Isn't there a way–"

"If there was, we would have found it." Said Severus softly. "There's something else, too… Afraid of the immense suffering and pain the last moments of his life would bring, your uncle asked me to kill him when– when the end of his ordeal would be drawing too close–"

"You're joking!" Cried Tara and hot tears were streaming down her cheeks. "He can't be– You can't– He's the most powerful wizard we have– And you cannot damage your soul by–"

"I've already sworn to it." Said Snape bitterly.

"He made you swear–"

"No, Narcissa Malfoy did."

"But how can she know–"

"She doesn't know he's already dying. The dark side believes Dumbledore's as strong as ever, and it must stay that way." He said serenely. "The Dark Lord ordered Draco to kill him because he believes he couldn't face him himself – unaware of Dumbledore's true condition, of course."

"So the Unbreakable Vow–"

"I swore that I would watch over Draco and that if he failed in his endeavour, I would do it instead." He said.

"Interesting how the two pleas collide…" Tara thought aloud. "You now have to do it even if you didn't want to– Oh, poor you! Poor Severus! You wretched, damned creature!" She cried, hugging him tight, her eyes filled up with tears again.

"I–" he was completely gobsmacked by her outbreak of sympathy towards him. "I'm not telling you so that you would pity me. I'm telling you because I don't want you to hate me."

"How could I ever hate you?" She cried. Putting his hands tentatively on her back, he stood there, unsure, ashamed, trying to find something to do, something to say.

"Please," she said, turning her big puffy eyes at him, "be there for him. I'm sure he values it more than he says. Just the thought he doesn't have to suffer until the end– Just the thought he won't be alone– I can see that you care about him a lot, Severus. Not everyone would consent to fulfilling such a dreadful task for someone else. How noble of you!"

"You– Your reaction is completely at odds with what I have anticipated, witch." He blurted out, still being grasped in a tight embrace. When she let go of him, he straightened his back, tried to put on his usual appearance of reserved coolness and said: "Tara, we need to delay his death as much as we can. If I see– If he feels the end near, I'll help him, or I'll help Draco do it, but Malfoy mustn't succeed sooner, do you understand? There are still many things Dumbledore has to do, and he's pretty much counting with the remaining time he has. Draco will attempt at the Headmaster's life numerous times this year, I'm sure of that, and you mustn't let any of these attempts pass your guard. You are to body-search everyone who comes into his office – we cannot forget about Polyjuice Potion – and you are to search every parcel or envelope that arrives addressed to him. I've already warned the Headmaster, but he's getting old and his caution is dropping – the hand is a living proof of that. If he wants to consume food or liquids in his office, there should be a house-elf to taste it first."

"Yes." Said Tara. "I understand. How about the mealtimes?"

"It would look suspicious if we had a taster in the Great Hall as well…" Snape was thinking hard and was rubbing his chin subconsciously.

"What if we ward the kitchen?" Suggested Tara. "We could say it's for Potter's protection or something."

"Ingenious." Snape nodded. "Let's make sure nobody gets in there but ourselves." As they were walking swiftly towards the dungeons, Tara squeezed his hand gently and said, wearing a soft, tired smile: "I just want you to know that I'm here for you, Severus. I know that a terrible burden was placed upon you. I'm always here for you."

Although frozen with aversion at first, he squeezed her hand gently and nodded. He couldn't believe she was offering understanding and support to her uncle's future murderer. _This witch was truly extraordinary_ , he thought

-oOo-

"You know what you have to do." Dumbledore said with a kind smile.

"Cha!" Tara cried and smashed her fist into the stone pillar that was magically holding the ring bearing a strange, angular stone. To prevent her getting cursed too, Dumbledore advised her to put on her dragon hide gloves. The whole castle shook. The column got shattered. But the ring remained intact.

"I've given it all I had." Tara shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe it cannot be destroyed by brutal force."

"As I thought." Said her uncle.

"Do you really have to die?" She said with a strained voice, her eyes getting watery again – as they frequently used to do these days.

"As you can see, I inevitably will." He lifted his burned hand for her to see. "Don't be sad, my girl. Everyone has to die eventually, even you." He winked at her.

"But without you- Without you-"

"Everyone matters. Everyone can make themselves useful in this war." Said Dumbledore softly. And that was all he said.

-oOo-

There was a slight knock on the door. Grunting and swearing, he rose to answer it. He had his hands full at the moment. He still needed to prepare the lesson material for the next day, to mark the sixth year essays he told them he would have marked by the next day, and now he was stuck with writing a confidential note for the Dark Lord. Whomever interrupts me at this hour will regret it, he thought.

"Hello!" Tara greeted him cheerfully in the doorway. "My uncle sent me here because he thought you could use some extra help!"

"I don't need your uncle's concern." Snape barked, frowning at her.

"Just kidding. You looked awfully tired at dinner so I thought you must be very busy."

"Yes, I am busy." He growled. "What exactly do you want?"

"Well – to help you, of course!" She cried and gave him a disapproving look, as if reprimanding him for not knowing that this was the most basic information he could ever ask for.

"You – what?!" Barked Snape, totally taken aback.

"Yeah, you heard me. Give me something to do, I'll help you." She gave him a soft smile.

"Is-Is this what friends usually do, or are you just weird?" He asked her, not quite able to comprehend the reality yet.

"This is what friends do. Haven't you had friends before?" She asked.

"Just one." He admitted. "Long ago."

"Oh," Tara paused, not knowing what to say. She felt she stepped over some invisible boundary, like she put her foot in it, to be precise.

"I've got these essays to correct," he waved his hand towards the stack of parchments on his desk, "but the student's will know it's not my handwriting–"

"Were you using the quill I got you for Christmas almost a year ago?" She asked. "The quill has the ability to learn its user's handwriting. It'll be easy. And I'll be really mean. I'll write down only the negative things, like you always do." She gave another wide smile.

"I don't give only negative feedback!" He tried to defend himself.

"Yes, you do. All the teachers know. Or did you think we were blind?" Tara teased him as she sat down to his desk opposite his chair. The desk was large enough to accommodate them both. Pulling the stack of parchment towards herself, she took the topmost one. He walked slowly back to his desk, his mind hesitant to accept her favour.

"Shouldn't you do something important for yourself? I mean," he didn't want to sound ungrateful, "do you have time to help me?"

"F'course." She mumbled, buried in the essay. Spotting the slanted handwriting, he just spat: "Granger."

Tara looked up: "She's got some mind, that girl."

"She's an insufferable know-it-all." He sneered.

"I thought you liked literate people?"

"Yes, but she's parroting every word she reads."

"Do you prefer ignorance then?"

"Did you come here to pick at me, secretary?" He murmured, but he was actually enjoying the conversation. "What I hate about Granger is her dullness. She doesn't use books as a resource material for her own ideas, she just stays on the pages, if you know what I mean."

"So it's not her blood status?"

"No." He said quietly, finishing his letter. "I have met more clever Muggleborns than I would like to admit."

"Put that in your letter." Tara smirked. Snape sneered, too: "Fat chance. Do you want me killed, girl?"

"So you don't actually berate students for not knowing what you should teach them?"

"If you came here to insult me, you know where the door is." He snarled and by a flick of his wand he made the letter disappear.

"Come on, Severus, don't be touchy." She smiled as she put Hermione's essay away. Severus, intrigued, gave a short glance to the comment Tara wrote: _Plain and ordinary._

"With a bit of work, you could reach my level of teaching," Severus nodded at her with an expression of apprehension and then – he couldn't believe it – he actually gave a genuine, wide smile. His face felt stiff, he hadn't smiled in a very long time. To his surprise, she returned the smile.

"You look handsome when you smile." She said and her cheeks got the well-familiar crimson blush.

"Shut up." He chuckled. There were little wrinkles around his eyes, and small, tiny dimples in his cheeks.

"Neville Longbottom." Said Tara, taking the next essay.

"Don't even bother and just give him a 'Poor'." He mumbled, not even taking his eyes off his lesson plans.

"Severus, that's really unfair. You taught him Potions, and even then you were unjust. What if he's actually a lot better in Defense?"

"Believe me, he's not." He growled. Tara sighed, and at least gave poor Neville the chance and read his essay. At the end, she had to accept defeat, scribbling a little P at the head of the parchment roll.

"He's really terrified of you." She said. "No wonder he botches up everything in your class. If you taught Herbology, he would be the worst in there as well."

"My expectations are high." He cut her short. "Especially in times like these, the students have to be prepared. And when they can't even distinguish an Inferi from a ghost – how can they fight the dark arts then?"

Tara had to shrug her shoulders in defeat again.

"You must be a terrible teacher."

"Piss off."

Then, a sudden thought struck him. He paused, his quill in the middle of writing.

"Did I- Did I teach _you_?"

She looked up, astonished. "What?"

"When you studied here, was I already teaching? How old are you?"

She gave a disapproving, clicking sound: "Severus, have I taught you nothing? This is not the appropriate way of finding out the lady's age!"

"Get lost." He growled. "How old are you, viper?"

"That's not the appropriate qualifier either."

"Oh, for God's sake, fuck off!" He grunted.

"I'm twenty-six, asshole." She said, her lips pressed into a thin line of disappointment.

"Is that a proper way of adressing your former teacher?" He said, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Yeah? And is it proper for a teacher to have his former student disrobed in his private quarters?"

"You're not naked." He snorted.

"But I could be." She retorted. "Hypothetically."

"Yeah, and I could be your lover – hypothetically." He spat, giving a hysterical bark of laughter. "Both are equally probable."

"You honestly don't know how much you're playing with fire right now." She gave him a wink and unbuttoned the first two buttons on her white blouse.

"You re-button these right now." He murmured and bent back over his lesson plans. By flicking his hand lazily, he made the top buttons snap into their holes. She threw him an offended look and bent down over the essays again.

"Yer a prick." He heard the softest of mumbles five minutes later.

"You said something, cow?"

"And apparently a deaf one, too." This mumble was barely more than a rasp of breath.

"If you want to kiss me so bad, man up and do it." He barked at her, half-sarcastically, as he didn't believe she actually would. They were friends. Just friends. Nothing more. And he knew she knew it well.

"Alright, you've asked for this." She jumped up from the table, taking a leap towards his chair, her cheeks burning with irritation. Before he could prevent it, he felt her lips on his, an angry and rough kiss at first, but their lips were but brushing against one another after a second. She let out a soft, shaky breath and her brown eyes caught his.

"I-I'm sorry." She blurted out, her face turning purple, and she ran out of his office, leaving him gobsmacked, still sitting at the writing desk with a quill in his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

She gasped "sorry" and then he watched her leave his room. He brushed his thumb over his lower lip in disbelief. He wouldn't have thought she could've done it. He knew he stirred her into it, but still… He closed his eyes, rubbed the root of his nose and tried to will the sensual, tingling feeling her kiss left on his lips disappear. She tasted like peaches and honey, and he soon found himself at a loss when it came to forgetting the kiss. No, he couldn't forget. He could just pretend it never happened. He would have to. Just when things started to look promising with Rose, that silly little wench had to come into this… He lay sprawled on his bed, thinking. What was he to do? They were friends, just friends. He had never felt any different about her. Yet… His time with Rose could never get anywhere near the atmosphere he knew from being with Tara. He knew there was… magic between them. They understood each other. They knew what the other was thinking. They sort of complemented each other. With Rose, he never knew such a feeling. Was time the issue? Would he have to get to know her better before this feeling of intimacy would arrive? Or was friendship the issue? Severus had been in love only once in his life and that was with his long-time best friend, so he had no clue how these things worked. What if the way to love did indeed lead through friendship? Yet, from what he knew, a lot of couples weren't friends when they fell in love. Screw her. She did it to piss him off anyway. Maybe she wanted to break him and Rose apart, maybe. But the kiss… The kiss was both rough and gentle, forbidding and promising, full of both love and hatred, passion and anger, enticing yet impossible. Impossible for him to have, to keep, to preserve. Would he lose her? Would he lose Tara's friendship? No, he couldn't risk that. Better be cool about it and pretend as if nothing happened.

-oOo-

 _I'm so stupid. So damn stupid._

She ran all the way up to her room, burst inside, shut the door, leaned on the wall, and burst into tears.

 _Things were fine with Severus. We had a good time. Why do I have to ruin everything?!_

She curled up into a foetal position on the floor and hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

 _He will hate me. He sure does already. He will burn the bridges between us and will never want to talk to me again._

Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

 _Just when he opened up to me. Just when we were so, so close. I'm a monster. I should leave this castle and never cross his path again._

 _But I can't. I love him too much._

-oOo-

"So, I told Alice – my nurse – I told her: 'You can't just call in anyone who waltzes into the waiting room! They have to show you their health insurance card, Good Lord!"

"Yeah, right." He mumbled, and sipped his beer. The evening was getting exceptionally tiresome. _And we've just exchanged a few sheepish touches and a chaste kiss on her cheek so far (from my part, last time), Merlin's beard!_

"You said you were a chemistry teacher, right?" She said, a little bit uncertain. He spotted her remembering diary clutched under the table in her left hand. "I really liked that subject when I was at school. What type of person are you, the organic or inorganic fella?" She wínked at him and chuckled.

 _Clearly an attempt to flirt with me?!_

"Oh – I mean – I suppose inorganic was never really my cup of tea." He blurted out with no idea what he was saying.

"You look it." She giggled. "I mean, you look like a teacher. With your white shirt, the grey waistcoat you're always wearing, and these trousers which look as if they were a part of a suit – I could definitely tell you were a teacher if I ever met you in the street. At which school do you teach?"

"I – eh – I'm just switching jobs. I don't have a place yet." He stuttered. _Pathetic_. He thought. _So unlike my usual self, controlled and reserved and confident. Maybe it's a good thing? Maybe love's supposed to bring out the best in you? Bullshit. This conversation is one big fat lie._

"Well, all schools seem the same, if I may say so." She said. "Do you think you'd be better off somewhere else?"

"Yes – Actually, I think I might get a better salary elsewhere." He lied.

"I doubt it. Teachers are so underpaid." She said with a slight note of contempt in her voice. And he realised that he secretly wished to be somewhere else. That he secretly wished to be back at Hogwarts. He wished to spend the precious hours of the freezing October evening with Tara in his cosy room, drinking tea and gossiping about the students. She hadn't talked with him for weeks. _I'm gonna go see her_ , he thought. _I'm gonna break the ice. I would have never done that, in all the other circumstances, but I just don't want to lose her. Merlin, how I don't want to lose her!_

"Severus, are you currently in a relationship?" She asked abruptly, her eyes fixed on his face.

"I– I'm not." He said. _Why did I hesitate? Why the fuck did I hesitate?!_

"Good." She said softly, and gave a tentative smile. "Me neither."

"Good."

But it didn't feel good.

Contrary to him, she had a great time – as she told him. She offered to go to her place, to which he more than happily agreed. As she was driving the blasted devil of a car he never learned to trust, he watched her. Her hair was red and beautiful, her eyes the weren't green, but brown, but with a bit of imagination, they could be green if he wanted them to. Her hands were slender and delicate, her neck was long and so delicate that he wished he could kiss it right there, right then. When she pulled over on the driveway, and they got out, he couldn't keep his hands to himself anymore. He cupped Rose's cheek and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. She closed her eyes and tangled her arms around his neck, hungrily reciprocating. He buried his fingers in her long hair and deepened the kiss, and she leaned on him in eager expectation. His heartbeat quickened. The kiss was so passionate, so feral… But suddenly, he remembered another kiss, the unforeseen blunder that happened in his private quarters a few months before. He remembered the Headmaster's secretary, and how ferociously she kissed him back there, his cheeks got hotter and he started kissing Rose with such zeal that they were positively making out on her porch. Very self-conscious of this fact, she blushed deeply and pulled him into her dark hallway.

-oOo-

"Papa? Why doesn't uncle Albus spend Christmas with us?" Tara suggested innocently at dinner. She was spending another Saturday with her great-grandfather, careful not to neglect him while she was working at Hogwarts. There were only few days left until the Christmas Day. Aberforth Dumbledore instantly choked on his soup.

"Him– spend Christmas here?" He said hoarsely when he stopped coughing. "Just because he's your uncle doesn't mean– Families don't invite all their members for Christmas–"

"But papa, there will be only the two of us in here, and he'll be alone for Christmas, he told me."

"I can cooperate with him sure enough. I eavesdropped for him, I watched the students in my inn for him, I even enjoyed a butterbeer or two with him. But what you're asking is too much, Tara, consider what he did to our sister– Consider how arrogant he was–"

"If you could only see how he regrets it, papa. At least once a fortnight, I have to give him a Dreamless Sleep, because his past mistakes are creeping back on him in his sleep. Sometimes he has his moods – midnight moods – when he gets all touchy and regretful and I have to reassure him, again and again, that he couldn't've done any better, that love is blind, and what not. Very often, I have to sit with him all night and allow him to recount events of his life which are bothering his consciousness, and time and time again, I have to listen to how he tries to give reasons for his past actions. Don't be that cruel, papa. Don't you believe people can change? I do. Please, if you could just give him your forgiveness, if you could just start with a clean slate – you cannot imagine how much that would mean for him. It would do you good, too, papa, it makes no good to bear grudges."

Aberforth sighed and, prodding the contents of his soup, he growled: "I might give it a bit of thought."

Tara glanced at him while eating her soup. Her great-grandfather used to be as tough as the Azkaban prison, however, since little Tara landed in his living room all these years ago, he grew kind-natured and soft-hearted. There wouldn't be anything he could refuse her. _She has made me a better person,_ thought Aberforth and looked at his dear girl, at the pride of his soul, at the only creature he would like to live forever, just to watch her blossom.

-oOo-

"Going somewhere?" He murmured grumpily. Tara shrieked and jumped up good two feet.

"What kind of jerk stands directly behind my door and waits until I try to go out?!" She yelled at him.

"I came to find out what kept your foul little mouth shut for so long." He gave a nasty smirk.

"Well, guilt," she blurted and blushed, "but, seeing everything is back to normal and you being as pleasant as ever, I should have just acted as usual."

"It amazes me that a viper like yourself is actually capable of feeling any guilt."

"What did you just say?! I'm gonna shut the door, you might wanna put your large nose out of the doorway." She snapped at him. Contrary to all her expectations, he tilted his head back and gave a barky, dry laugh.

"We'll forget about it, won't we, then?" She peeped.

"I missed you so much, kitten." He said, and with an actual smile on his lips, he ruffled her hair gently with his hand. "Don't worry about it anymore. I put you up to it anyway."

Her earlobs turned crimson.

 _I can't believe what a good friend he actually turned out to be,_ Tara thought.

"I actually have something to discuss." He said much more soberly.

"Go on – I mean, come in." She let him in.

"I need you to go on a trip with me." He said and fixed his onyx eyes on her brown ones. _Does she have prettier eyes than Rose?_

"Is it shopping again?" Said Tara with exasperation. "If so, you can perfectly manage alone–"

"It's a secret business. It- It has something to do with the Dark Lord." He said, barely audibly.

Tara gasped: "Are- Are you allowed to tell me?"

"Naturally, I am not, nitwit." He gave a smirk. "The Dark Lord has ordered me to test the security of one of his hidden places. However, the Headmaster has a pretty idea of what might be stored inside, and you will be the one who'll lead him there, after you'll have gone with me, that is."

"Can't you just tell uncle where the hideout is?"

"Naturally, I cannot." He gave even a nastier smirk. "The Dark Lord would have known instantly that I've blabbed it out."

"Sure, but he'll have no suspicion over the fact you've shown me." She folded her arms.

"I can make something out." He said resolutely. "It's– kind of– being decided that I'll be the next Headmaster after– you know– your uncle." She nodded. "And I might need to spread the rumour that you are Imperiused. So I might even put two and two together."

"I don't like playing the puppet here." She frowned.

"I'm sorry, but you have no choice." He gave a bitter smirk so that a part of his face was temporarily contorted into a hideous mask. "Welcome to my world. Big news, it sucks. At least I got to have sex twice yesterday."

"I wondered what had you in such a good mood." She grinned and he grinned back. "What doesn't have you in good mood?"

"Minerva had me run around the grounds like an idiot."

"Well, that's what you get for signing for the job, you know." He gave her a smirk.

"It's not about running errands," Tara puffed in exasperation. "she made me increase my speed like crazy! I saw the world as one giant blurr while I did that training with her. Honestly, she works me like a mule, I wish I could have my uncle back overseeing my progress."

"Well, he's teaching Potter stuff now."

"What stuff?"

"I don't know, something about the Dark Lord."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Shut up, or I won't take you with me."

"Poooh, empty threats, you need me, you bastard!"

-oOo-

"Tara, my dear, we haven't had the opportunity to speak properly, have we?" Roared Horace Slughorn, and, putting his big arm around her shoulders, he led the young woman off the main street of Hogsmeade towards Three Broomsticks. "Fancy a butterbeer?"

Cowered under his touch, she could see that there was no way out for her: "W-Why not?"

"Horace!" Cried Rosmerta once the Potions Master opened the door. "Long time no see! And who do you have there– Oh, dear, have you decided to side with the enemy, Miss Henley?" Rosmerta beamed at her and brought the glasses at once. She obviously was more than happy to have such interesting guests, and, of course, she took pride in the fact that the family member of the rivalling pub paid her a visit.

"No, still a devoted Hog's Head fan, Madame Rosmerta, I'm sorry." Tara gave a shy smile and accepted the glass.

"So, Miss Henley," said Horace and leaned back in his chair, "rumour has it that you're the long-lost niece of the Headmaster?"

"I doubt anyone's ever been looking for me, professor, but the rumour is true. Where do you come across these things? Nothing can escape you." Tara gave him a kind smile.

"You see, young Mr Malfoy is truly a master of his class, the young boy knows how to keep his social relations, yes, undoubtedly a skill from his father…" Horace drifted off into a monologue of how many important people do the Malfoys know that he just so happens to know himself that he didn't notice Severus's dark silhouette looming above him.

"Goodness Gracious, Severus, you've scared me to death!" Yelped Horace and his boyish face looked half as joyful as a minute ago.

"Severus, what're you doing here?" Tara smiled at him and he scowled at her.

"Oh, you seem to know each other pretty well, Severus, please have a butterbeer with us!" Horace waved at Madame Rosmerta to bring another glass.

"Horace, I see you're not faithful to your habit of having a little sweet treat with your afternoon beverage on Sundays?" Severus raised his eyebrow, his voice absolutely disinterested.

"Blimey, Severus, m'boy, you're right!" Boomed Slughorn and gave the young wizard a mighty pat into his back. Tara had to suppress a laugh as she watched Severus recoil slightly from the touch. _Damn, I know him so well_.

"Maybe Rosmerta would have something under the counter for you?" Severus suggested and Slughorn sprang to the bar table, eager to receive his afternoon treat.

"Don't drink it." His voice was so low it wasn't even a snarl. "There's something fishy in there. Swap glasses, don't look at me or the glass, don't say a word."

Tara moved the glass slowly on the table towards him, pretending to look out of the window. Having received Severus' butterbeer, she cast him an alarmed glance. After his microscopic nod, she drank his butterbeer. He pretended to drink from her glass, then put the glass back on the table and murmured: "Confusing Concoction."

"But why–"

"Meet me in the castle in twenty minutes." He muttered, put the change on the table, and just as Horace was coming back to the table with a honey tart on a small plate, Severus said: "Sorry Horace, I've a lot of essays to grade. See you at dinner."

"Don't you think you've evaded me so easily, my friend!" Horace cried and gave a chuckle. "Now, Miss Henley, do you think I could ask you a favour? It's just because I have you here now, you see, otherwise I would do it myself – could you give this bottle to your uncle as a present from me? Rosmerta just told me she had this last bottle of his favourite flavour of mead here under the counter, and she would be sorry to sell it to someone else, so, naturally, I had to buy it… What do you say?"

"Well, I suppose I might." Tara gave a weak smile and made a mental note to bring the bottle over to Severus. If someone wanted her drugged, that had to mean the bottle was poisoned – people had started noticing that every item going up the Headmaster's Tower was searched.

"Good judgement." Severus confirmed her suspicion as he uncocked the bottle fifteen minutes later. "Good I told you not to drink it."

"Who could have done it, do you reckon? Sending my uncle the mead?"

"Oh, I think I've a pretty good idea who that was." Severus said and frowned. "The real question is who put a confusing draught into your butterbeer."

"No idea." Tara shook her head.

"Have you seen Rosmerta leave the bar? Have you seen anyone else there?"

"No."

"Have you got up from the table?"

"No, I was seated until you got there."

"In any case," he rubbed the root of his nose as if he was tired, "it seems that the danger has now extended onto you, too."

"M-Me?!"

"Yes, you see, anyone who wants to harm the Headmaster now knows it's nearly impossible to do so because you check everyone, every package and all the food and drinks. And if they get you out of their way, the path is clear."

"So what am I to do? Put another taster there for myself?"

He gave a dark chuckle: "Interesting how it multiplies. No, I think you have to deal with it. Your uncle is old and reckless but you can use your senses to your advantage. If we increase the security, they'll know we know. No, we want to discover the source of these attacks, and you have a bright mind. Just stay alert, don't go anywhere in the castle after dark and don't go into the Three Broomsticks."

"Well, my papa would be pleased with this last piece of advice." She chuckled.

-oOo-

"How many people do you want to kill, Draco?" Severus hissed and pinned the young blonde Slytherin student on the wall in the dungeons after the DA lesson. "Do you want to kill the secretary to get to him?!"

"I've seriously considered it, after she evaded my Confusing Draught and confiscated the bottle." Hissed Draco Malfoy.

"So it was your Draught? How did you put it into her butterbeer?" Severus hissed.

"It's none of your business." Draco snarled and pushed his professor's arm away. "I wouldn't care if that dirty bartender's daughter died in the process. I have a task to do, and until now, I've been… unsuccessful." He clenched his hands into fists. "He starts to be impatient with me. He threatens to kill my mother…"

"He would never kill Narcissa, Draco." Severus tried to reassure him, but his words came out croaky from his tight throat. Narcissa Malfoy was his long-time friend and he quite liked her.

"What do you know!" Shouted Draco, and started towards the Slytherin quarters. "It's not your mother who's in danger!"

-oOo-

They were standing in a dark cave. They lighted their wands. Sinister shadows were dancing on the rock walls. The air was chilly, and she could smell sea.

"Where are we? Are we in England?"

"I said no stupid questions."

"These are not stupid."

"Better help me get through that wall." Snape put his hands on the cave wall made of rough black stone. "There's magic in there."

"Shall we use dark magic on it?"

"It won't be of any use. Besides, he'll know we've been here."

"He already does know, so what's the point?"

"I'm trying to pave someone else a way here." Severus whispered and pointing his wand at the wall, he gave it a few waves and flicks. Nothing happened.

"Shall I try to break it?"

Snape paused for a second, then he said: "I think you can try."

Springing towards the cold stone, Tara clenched her fist, focused her power and gave the wall a mighty punch. The cave shook, a couple of stones fell off the ceiling, but the wall remained untouched. Then, suddenly, it disappeared.

"Wh-What was that about?!" Tara yelled, put off balance.

"I think it's the blood on your knuckles." Severus murmured, and without any prior notice he took her hand abruptly into his to look closer. Tara squealed, blushed and snatched her hand back.

"Don't be a fool." Severus snapped at her. "Let's go."

They entered a dark passage, iluminated only by the silvery light from the tip of their wands. The passage soon began to slope down, and Tara had to back herself up by holding on to both sides of the narrow corridor with her hands.

Soon after walking into the inner cave, which seemed really spacious from what they could discern from the wandlight, they found a dark lake. At the middle of the lake, there was a small island illuminated by a green light. There was something on that island.

"Severus, I don't like the feel of this. I think- I think we're not alone." Tara whispered and tugged at his sleeve.

"You're right, the lake is full of Inferi." He murmured, and pointing the tip of his wand at the glassy surface, Tara jerked and whimpered as she saw a dead face under the water.

"Severus," Tara tugged at his sleeve again, "something crossed my mind."

"What is it?" He asked, his face hard as stone.

"It's unlikely for the Dark Lord to trust someone so much that he would reveal the location of this hiding place to them." Tara whispered. "According to my uncle, this place is somehow connected to his immortality – you know, the reason he didn't die that time in Godric's Hollow. Did he ask you to check that thing in the middle?"

Her friend nodded.

"I think he planned for you to die in here, and then he would come himself to see if his traps work."

Severus stood staring at her, frozen. His body wasn't moving, but she could see his black eyes testing the surroundings frantically, his hand clutching his wand, his knuckles white. He was desperately searching for a way out, scanning the cave for any imminent danger.

"I think he wouldn't like anyone to see what's in the basin with the green light." Tara whispered and fixed her big, scared brown eyes on him.

"Tara, you're right." He murmured, his pupils still piercing the darkness of the cave all around them like a wild panther.

"I won't leave you." She said resolutely, taking his hand. "Whatever happens, I will be at your side."

"Thank you." He whispered and squeezed her hand.

"There should be a boat somewhere – or are we expected to fly?" She wondered, and tried to scan the depths of the lake without going too close to the bank. Severus whispered something she couldn't hear, and after a few flicks of his wand, a glowing chain appeared embedded in the wall. Once Severus' hand touched it, the chain started pulling something from the lake. Seconds later, there was a small boat floating noiselessly on the water.

"Have you noticed the insufferable silence here?" Tara whispered.

"This place is seeping with dark magic." He whispered. "It's everywhere – in the water, in the air, in the stones we're standing on – everywhere."

Severus stepped into the boat and held Tara's hand so that she could get in too. However, as soon as she put her foot into the vessel, it started sinking. She yelped and jumped away, bumping into the wall. The boat resurfaced again and sat at the mirror-like surface as calmly as ever.

"I think only one of us can go." Severus murmured and his piercing eyes dug into the strange green glow emanating from the basin on the small island.

"Do you think–" Tara's throat suddenly became very tight. "Do you think something will happen to you once you get there?"

"Maybe." He said, barely audibly. He pushed the boat from the bank and it became a noiseless glider, floating towards the middle of the lake. He turned to her once again. Suddenly, it seemed to her that his face became immensely, irrevocably sad. Almost heartbroken.

"If something happens to me… Run as fast as you can. Don't return for me. Tell Albus everything you saw, and how to get here."

"No!" She cried and reached for him, but the boat was already too far. Her cry pierced the silence of the cave like a thunder, and they both froze, awaiting some terrible monster to awaken. But nothing happened. The surface of the lake was as undisturbed as ever.

"You can't just… Launch yourself into the darkness without anyone at your side… Without anyone to help you…" He could hear Tara sobbing on the bank of the lake.

"It's too late, I already did." His soft, deep voice came back to her almost as if from another world.

And then there was silence. Terrible, soul-consuming silence. Tara had no clue to hear save her own frantic heartbeat. She could see Severus' dark silhouette stepping on the rock from the boat, and then she could hear splashes of water.

"What's going on?" She yelled.

"The boat has sunk down. I think I'm trapped here." Was his only answer.

"Let's worry about that later." She suggested, trying to keep him calm. "Do you see something in the basin?"

"Yes, a small pendant– no, a locket." Said he.

And then pandemonium broke out.

-oOo-

 _Oh Severus… Severus, please… More, I want more!_

 _The bed was rattling under the weight of their two bodies as they were mingling frantically on the covers. He could make love to her, when he looked into her eyes he imagined they were green, not brown… He buried his face into her ginger mane sprawled across the pillow, he breathed the salty, hot scent of her body and worshipped her skin with his lips, taking the love he never got from her, from Lily, taking it from this anonymous woman, her twin sister he didn't care about…_

 _Did he love her?_

 _No, he didn't love her. He wished he could._

 _But this was the closest he could get to having sex with Lily Evans._

 _So feelings aside. This was his moment. He would take everything from her, not looking back once._

 _Because he believed he deserved it._

 _He wasn't obliged to love her. He could always pretend._

 _Lucky she was so naive._

-oOo-

She watched a hundred skeletal bodies ambush him. She watched him fire curses and hexes at them, and she clenched her fists in exasperation. Think, Severus, think! These are Inferi, curses have no effect on them!

She watched them entangle their long limbs around him. She watched them snatch his wand away from him. And then she watched them pull him towards the water. And then, her body started to move on its own accord. She sprang towards the water, not looking left or right. She focused all her magical power into her feet, and ran faster, and faster, and faster. The cave became a dark, greenish blurr. She didn't even feel the water under her feet, as she was flying towards the island. The spider-like fingers that snatched at her ankles emerged from the water long after her foot touched the surface. In a split of a second she was on the island too, fighting like a lioness, not looking left or right, giving out punches and kicks to the white corpse-like puppets like a madwoman, holding her wand with her teeth. In a minute she kicked half of them into the water, freeing her friend from their deadly grasp.

"Here come more." Croaked Severus, still sore from the Inferius' grasp on his throat.

"Set the bloody island on fire!" Shouted Tara, busy with defending his back from the creatures with her wand.

"Correct." He blurted and soon enough, the borders of the island were consumed by a series of hungry red-and-orange flames. The Inferi that were emerging from the water fell back in panic and the ones trapped in the fiery circle were soon blasted into the lake by the two wizards.

"I think we got what we came here for." Said Tara resolutely. "Hop on my back!"

A bit awkwardly, Severus put his arms around her neck and felt her hands hold his thighs tight around her waist. Tara created a hole in the fire wall by a swish of her wand and taking a step back, she sprinted towards the lake, gaining the same incredible speed as she had done before, the snatching hands of the Inferi living in the water feeling like they belonged to a different time zone. She zoomed across the lake, clutching his friend's legs tight.

 _Please, let us be out. Please, let us be out. Please, let it be over._

She didn't stop at the entrance to the cave. Jumping off the cliff the cave stood on, the two wizards disapparated into the salty sea air.

The rough sea waves hit the rocky foot of the cliff again and again. Dark clouds were gathering.

A storm was coming.


	10. Chapter 10

"I saved your butt!"

"Shut up!"

"I saved your buttity buttity butt!"

"I said shut up!"

"Next time you go on a mission, take me with you 'cause you wouldn't last ten seconds without me!" Tara boomed and gave a hearty laugh. Severus, on the other hand, was white with anger.

"I couldn't focus because you were there!" He roared at her, his hands clenched into fists.

"Oh, who do you think you're fooling? I know damn well you were thinking of her, even despite the fact I told you not to see her again." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Since when do I care what you say?" He spat angrily.

"Since we're buddies, mate." She nudged him into his ribs. "Now, someone has to get to work, because – believe it or not – secretaries usually don't run wild in secret caves at night. I'm just going to get a cup of coffee." She said, swinging up from his armchair and walking right across his living area. She turned around at the door, her skirt swirling around her bottom, gave him a soft smile and chirped: "Byebye, Sev."

Was his brain still dysfunctional from the botched-up mission, or did he actually like the sight of her in that red skirt of hers?!

 _Goddamnit!_

-oOo-

"Hey," Severus' head appeared at the doorway, "when will you–"

"I finish at five, sweetheart." Tara gave him a flirty smile and bent over the parchments.

"Y-You– Don't tell me–" Minerva McGonagall managed but an incoherent mumble.

"We're just friends." Mumbled Tara, still bent over her forms. "This is just the way we are with each other."

"How unusual!" Exclaimed Minerva, her face looking completely gobsmacked.

"What is?" Tara finally looked up and winked her long lashes.

"You see, it's very unusual for Severus to even be friends with someone, let alone be as comfortable as this." Said Minerva.

"Oh," Tara didn't know what else to say, "maybe he's very particular about choosing his friends? I don't know, we are just naturally casual with each other – with occasional foul-word skirmishes, of course, because where would Severus be without a good rant some day or other?"

"And you can stand this? I mean – he can often be quite insensitive, you know–"

"The most vulnerable Hippogryffs kick around the most." Said Tara, parroting her papa's favourite saying.

"Excuse me?!" Minerva's eyebrows flew up somewhere into the roots of her hair.

"I think about Severus as a particularly unpleasant sort of cacti." Explained the secretary. "It has thorns and everyone thinks it's a waste of time to bother with it, but it still needs love to grow, and occasionally, it even blossoms!" She giggled.

-oOo-

"I am a kind of cacti?!" He barked at her at breakfast.

"Yes, and a really nasty one." She snapped back, buttering her toast as she spoke. "Almost a Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

"You should change the cat-litter that you have for a brain, you nitwit, this one is beginning to stink." He gave her a smirk.

"Hold your thorns, or I'll put you outside to soak up some water." She barked at him, sipping her pumpkin juice.

"Have you stepped out of bed with the wrong tentacle, viper?"

"Vipers don't have tentacles, dimwit. Go ask any of the Muggle-borns, I believe that's what they teach them at preschool. They also teach good manners there, you should broaden your horizons. See you after work, Mr Blister." She winked at him and floated away.

"You're getting along really well!" Said Filius enthusiastically, seated on several cushions on a chair next to Tara's. "What are you doing after work?"

"While I go back to kindergarten, you should as well go with me, Filius, you're eavesdropping." Severus murmured wearily and sipped his black coffee.

-oOo-

When he came to visit Rose a few days after, she was in a particularly bad state of confusion. As he knocked on the front door, holding a bunch of flowers he conjured a moment earlier, she opened the door, her hair messy, wearing a loose Christmas sweater, a pair of pyjama trousers, and one of her feet was sock-free.

"Oh, hello there!" She gave him a smile. "I don't want to sound unladylike, but what are you doing here?"

"It's our date, remember?" Severus reminded her gently, and stepped into the hallway. Her knickknacks were strewn everywhere, from a half-eaten box of chocolates on the floor, to a toothbrush at the hallway mirror, to an empty pizza box in the sink.

"Did something happen, Rose?" He asked. _An explosion, perhaps?_

"No, this sometimes happens to me, you know." She waved her hand dismissively. "Sometimes I am a total mess, my head just turns into a pile of crap, I don't know where I put stuff, I suddenly forget my way to work although I've been driving there for like ten years… Nothing unusual. Have you seen my comb? – Oh, nevermind, here it is!" She cried and pulled the hairbrush from the freezer.

"Have you been to work at all today, Rose?"

"No, I couldn't find my car keys." She said.

"But they are in their usual spot, in this hallway drawer, you always put them there." He reminded her. She just broke into a laugh.

"Well, there they are! Doesn't matter, I just phoned sick in the morning – my nurse wasn't particularly happy about it – but then again, it sometimes happens…"

 _Something doesn't feel right here,_ he thought. She's more odd than Luna Lovegood on an Easter Monday. _If she says this happens to her on regular basis, fair enough, but I could swear magic had something to do with her head – even before, she was quirky at best._ He pointed his wand at her back secretly and whispered: "Legillimens."

Flashes of images filled his mind – Rose at work, Rose at hime, Rose and him, Rose and her friends – but then, his spell hit a kind of invisible wall. Memory spell, he thought instantly and tried to penetrate harder. He pushed against this invisible wall, and the scene suddenly became incredibly blurred and foggy.

The last thing Rose Gallagher saw before somebody wiped out her memories was a very young witch, about eighteen or twenty, with dark curly hair, brown big eyes and porcelain skin, pointing her wand at the Muggle woman and saying: "Obliviate Majoritatis."

"Oh, what is it I just remembered?" Said Rose, her voice soft and confused. "What was that – a kind of stick pointing at me? What was what that woman was saying?"

"That was– a TV show we watched together last week, don't you remember, silly?" He gave her a kind smile, his eyes however, they remained cold and calculating.

"Did we?" She asked, still confused.

"Yes, there was the– Medieval exorcist– And the victims she tortured, don't you remember?"

"Oh, was it the one where the main character tries to save his father but dies at the end?" She said, the flash of realization apparent in her face.

"Exactly that one." He nodded. "Look, Rose, why don't we call it off tonight? There's still some– planning that I have to do for my lessons tomorrow, and I'm also quite tired."

"Excellent, I'll have time to find my hairbrush until then." She gave him a wide smile.

"Try to look in the freezer." He couldn't suppress a smirk as he was walking out of the main door, the bouquet of flowers disappearing into nothingness.

-oOo-

He marched through the castle, seeing red like an enraged bull. He paid little attention to the Hogwarts students, who, as soon as they saw his quick paced march and his wand clutched tight in his right hand, ran away like mice before a cat. At that moment, he gave a shit it was five minutes past curfew. He knew she usually worked late on Wednesdays. He barged into her office, lifted her off her chair and pressing her against the office wall, he pointed his wand straight at her forehead.

"What did you do to that Muggle?" He roared, pressing the tip of his wand into the skin in between her eyes. Those hideous, brown eyes which he had seen not more than twenty minutes ago in Rose Gallagher's head.

"W-What Muggle?!" She squealed. Like a predator playing with its prey, he could feel her blood racing in her veins, he could hear her breath shaking, he could see her hands trembling.

"What's going on?" Said Albus Dumbledore, opening his office door and walking straight in the middle of the skirmish.

"Don't. Meddle." Those two words were like a pair of blades, sent through the air towards the Headmaster. Snape's voice was nothing more than a vicious growl. He wanted to kill her, shred her into pieces.

"Unfortunately for you, Severus, I have to meddle. You know well that no harm will be done to any Hogwarts student or staff. That's my tenet. Lower your wand."

"Not after I kill her." He snarled and jabbed the tip of his wand where Tara's heart was beating like crazy under her white blouse.

"Before you kill me," her voice was like the whisper of a hollow tree, "don't you want to know why I did that? Why I wiped out her memory?"

"It's not about wiping out her memory, you've made a mess of her!" He bellowed and a few sparks from the tip of his wand seared through the white fabric. Tara clenched her fists. The skin on her left breast was burnt.

"Oh, it's this little unfortunate incident." Albus Dumbledore rubbed his beard. "No need to get excited, Severus, I know everything about it."

"You know everything and you still let her remain in this castle?!" He roared angrily.

"You would know what it feels like to be under the Headmaster's wing, wouldn't you, Severus?" Tara said. She didn't even know why she said it. The only thing she knew was that it would provoke him.

And it did.

-oOo-

Tara didn't know what curse Severus fired at her.

She didn't know what countercurse she used herself.

She didn't know anything at all.

Because the office exploded.

The last thing she remembered before the blinding light erupted through her whole human being was Fawkes' wide wings, spreading in front of her like a giant shield. She was shrieking her uncle's name, she didn't even know that she was.

When the last pieces of debris fell down and the dust settled, she found out that the wall behind her was gone. She stood there in the middle of the ruins of the office unscathed, and Fawkes burst into flames and crumbled on the floor. She began searching frantically for the two wizards, deciding to find her uncle first. She found him with minor cuts and bruises, thrown backwards into his own office. He must have used some protective charm on himself, because he looked happy for someone who has just suffered an explosion equal to a Muggle explosive device.

"Where is Severus?" Tara gasped, and began searching through the debris. However, her uncle caught her hand.

"You should go." He said softly. "I'll talk to him. I'll make him understand."

"No." Tara said resolutely. " _I'll_ make him understand. I won't run away and I won't hide behind someone else's back."

The ruffle of debris behind them made them both jump up and turn around.

"How are you still alive?" Said Severus, slowly getting up and leaning on the wall behind him which, miraculously, suffered no damage.

"Lower your wand." Tara said firmly, pointing hers at him.

"Make me." He smirked.

"I don't want to fight."

"You should have thought about that before you crippled that Muggle."

"For God's sake, Severus, will you let me explain?!"

"I won't let you make up dirty lies and throw them in my face." He growled. She huffed in exasperation and leaping some two-three steps forward, she stood before him, her wand hung loose at her side.

"Give me the Veritaserum." She said softly. "I know you carry that tiny flask anywhere you go. Just give it to me. Let's put a stopper to this nonsense."

She saw a flicker of emotion she couldn't understand in the onyx eyes that stared at her in disbelief.

"Come on, it's of your own making, after all, and I know you've always been very particular about your own brews. – Don't look at me like that, I haven't tampered with it, don't make me think you could actually believe that, or I'll think you're going nuts."

Slowly, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and handed her the vial. She uncorcked it and swallowed it in one large gulp.

"Do you know me, my child?" Asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, you are Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and my great-great-uncle, the brother of my great-grandfather."

"Do you know this man?"

"Yes, he's Severus Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts, and your spy who poses as a Death Eater."

"Remind me never to let her fall into the hands of the Dark Lord or I'm done." Snape gave a sarcasstic smirk.

"That Muggle, Rose Gallagher, have you seen her before?"

"Yes."

"Is Gallagher her true, maiden name?"

"No."

"What's her maiden name?" Growled Severus impatiently.

"Evans."

"I knew it!" He roared and pointed his wand at her.

"Severus, please." Said Dumbledore and the Potions Master lowered his wand again.

"Who renamed her?"

"Our team at the Department of Mysteries."

"Had the Department of Mysteries something to do with her current condition then?"

"Yes." Dumbledore gave Severus a knowing nod. The younger wizard just smirked and huffed.

"Why did you jerks curse her brain into nothingness?" Severus snapped.

"Severus, you know you should only ask clear questions when someone is under the Veritasserum." Dumbledore reminded him calmly.

"She personally witnessed the murder and torture of the Potters."

"There was no 'torture of the Potters'!" Severus barked angrily.

"Yes, there was. We found out from Harry Potter's memory that prior to his attempt to kill him, the Dark Lord had tortured the toddler. We have modified his memory so that the boy doesn't know it happened."

"Is it true?" Barked Severus, this time at Dumbledore instead. "Is it true that Potter was tortured as a baby? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"What difference would it make if I told you, Severus? You hate the boy anyway, I didn't think you would be anyhow nicer to him." Dumbledore answered calmly.

"How is it possible that the Dark Lord didn't kill the Muggle first? He must have known she was hiding somewhere there."

"We weren't sure, but we thought that he had to clear his way to Harry, because his wizard parents would surely have made it difficult for him if he dealt with the Muggle first. And after he killed his mother and father, he wanted to get the child – the alleged threat – out of the way quickly, just to be sure no one else would want to be difficult. We also thought that perhaps he enjoyed the thought of Rose Evans being scared to death by personally witnessing the murder of her twin sister and baby nephew. Which she was."

"What do you mean?"

"She was at the edge of her sanity when our team arrived on the spot. We wanted to help her, but the wizarding community couldn't be informed because she was such a pitiful sight. So we locked up the madwoman in our department, figuring out what we should do with her."

"Severus, you have seen Muggles driven to insanity by magic yourself, so she surely doesn't have to describe Rose's exact condition to you, does she?" Dumbledore pointed out.

Severus shuddered slightly: "No, thank you, what I saw will be enough for a lifetime. Let's say that you did actually find Rose Evans at the half-destroyed house of the Potters. Why take her in? Why not just perform a memory charm?"

"We couldn't. It didn't work. It was as if some connection in her just… broke and she was all wrong after that."

"So what did _you_ have to do in all this?" He growled dangerously.

"I was in charge of finding the way how to make her normal again. I was very talented with memory charms, even when I was still at school, so they gave that task to me."

"So what did you do exactly?"

"Nothing of the normal charms worked. I tried everything. Then it was decided by all of us that we had to go deeper. That we had to make a different person out of her. We thought that no memory charm was possible while she still knew she had a twin sister who was murdered right in front of her. So we decided we had to erase Lily from her memory entirely."

"But that's impossible." Severus groaned.

"We had to go deep, very, very deep. We had to sift through her brain down to the earliest memories she had of her twin sister, and we had to erase everything."

"Which means you had to go memory by memory." Said Severus.

"Yes."

"Who was the one who went through all these memories?"

"Me."

"And who was the one to find out that such a way was even possible, who was the one to find a spell to do this?" The Obliviate Majoritatis, he thought.

"Me."

"Did you know that it would leave her memory permanently damaged?" Asked Dumbledore.

"No."

"So why did you take such a huge risk?"

"It was insufferable just to watch her losing herself in her insanity day after day."

"Why try to save such a wretched human being then?" Severus growled. "Why not kill her, and save her from the misery?"

"I truly thought we should help her. I truly believed that I should save her. I couldn't stand just the thought of murdering her. She deserved to live."

"So you didn't try to… experiment on her… for fun?"

"No. I really wanted to help her."

Without even looking at her, he reached into his pocket again, and threw her another vial. The antidote.

"Drink this." Said Dumbledore softly. She obeyed. When her eyes became clear again, she asked softly: "Do you think you can forgive me, Severus?"

"I don't know." He murmured, and turned to go.

"Have you ever felt that you had no choice in what you were doing?" She asked, hot tears silently streaming down her cheeks. "Have you ever felt that no matter which choice you make, it will be the wrong one? Have you ever felt the disappointment, the self-loathing when you tried to help someone who couldn't be helped anymore?"

"No." He said and shut the door behind him.

But he lied.

He knew damn well what it felt like.

His life was a living proof of that.


	11. Chapter 11

"There you are." Severus said as his steps came to a halt. There was a young woman sitting on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, her long thick hair flipping in the wind, her legs hanging over the edge, her eyes looking into the distance with immeasurable sadness.

"I would understand if you never wanted to see me again." She whispered.

"And I would understand if _you_ never wanted to see _me_ again." He sighed and sat down next to her.

"Can you hang out with me here?" She asked.

"It's half past twelve in the morning. No one can see us." He said.

"The worst thing is," he began slowly, fixing his dark eyes on her found face, "that I fully understand. All of it."

"Has it ever happened to you?" She asked gently. "Has it ever happened to you that you had to perform one deed more terrible than the other, and you just had to pick the lesser of two evils?"

"More often than I can count." He nodded and then he closed his eyes, feeling suddenly worn out and tired. "Only the bravest people can face such a challenge with their head held high. You, Tara, are stronger than you would admit for yourself."

"So…" She whispered, "you don't think I'm a horrible person?"

"No." He answered, barely audibly. "You both are victims of the war."

"As are you."

Then they sat there, staring at the stars, only the two of them, not minding the cold December weather. Neither of them knew for how long they sat there, holding each other's hand as if to reassure each other of their humanness, of their existence, of their belonging to this world.

After what felt like eternity, Tara asked softly: "Will you see her again?"

"Probably not." He answered. "It's not safe."

"I'm sorry I took the relationship away from you."

"Don't worry about it. It was a miserable relationship anyway."

Something inside her roared in victory.

"We must make sure Potter doesn't contact her again."

"We don't have to. Something tells me that even Potter doesn't push himself somewhere he's not wanted."

-oOo-

"And the next one is…. From Papa! Thank you!" Tara beamed as she held the soft parcel in her hands. In front of the fireplace, across from her, sat two very old men. One of them was her beloved Papa. And the other was her beloved uncle. Both were beaming with joy and both were holding glasses of mead which heavily contributed to their merriment.

"I wonder what it could be – a scarf! Papa, you didn't have to!"

"That's no ordinary scarf, my dear, that's a real pashmina, made of the finest goat hair in the Himalayas. This will keep you warm all winter!" Beamed Aberforth and knocked his mead back with such zeal that Tara wondered if he would start steping up around the room any moment now. Chuckling heartily, his brother filled his glass again.

"I helped him get that!" Giggled Albus, nudging his brother's arm.

"Sure 'ee did!" Cried Aberforth, nudging his brother back, and both men drank up their glasses. Tara sighed.

"It's just Christmas morning!" She cried, a bit indignant, emphasizing the last word.

"Su-Sure 'tis, my dear," Aberforth hiccupped, and with some help of his only slightly less drunk brother, he managed to get up on his feet, "'swhy we're cele… celebrating the greatest gift of all – family! To family!" He exclaimed, lifted his glass up in a toast, and drank its content.

"Family!" His older brother hiccupped, and making a toast as well, chugged his glass of mead.

"Geeez…" Tara huffed, and went to the mirror to try her new scarlet-red scarf. It really was warm and cozy. Suddenly, there was a slight tap on the window pane next to her arm. Peering outside, she saw a tall, black figure outside. She glanced at the two elderly men in the living room, who had just begun to sing "The Irish Rover" and swing their glasses of mead along, she deduced it would be probably fine if she slipped out for a while.

"Merry Christmas!" She said, running towards the man, and hugging him tight.

"Merry Christmas, Tara." Severus said, his deep voice making her blush as always, and contrary to his life-long conviction, he couldn't help but hug her on this special day. She buried her red cheeks in his travelling cloak, and there they stood, clinging into each other in the falling snow. It was beautiful, and it was everything Tara ever wished for.

"Here." He said, and pressed a small parcel gently into her hands.

"You didn't have to go all the way here to give me this, you could have sent an owl…"

"I wanted to deliver it personally." He said softly. "Open it."

As she lifted the lid off the box, she gasped. Inside was a silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, the germstone being some kind of sapphire. It sparkled and glowed beautifully, more than any snow or ice that day.

"Oh Severus– I can't– You shouldn't–"

"It belonged to my mother." He said briskly, as if not wanting to prolong what must have been a very awkward moment for him. "I'd like you to have it. It's very special."

Tara fastened it around her neck: "I'll wear it every day."

"I have something for you too – do you want to come inside?"

"No." He quickly refused. Seeing her brow raised, he explained: "The two codgers have now started singing "Danny Boy" and I'd rather be dead than have to sing with them."

Tara giggled, and ran inside to fetch her present. When Severus opened it, there was a battered gold pocket watch inside.

"It was my dad's favourite watch." Tara whispered.

"Thank you." Said Severus, feeling much awkward and not knowing to do in that situation.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside? You must be very lonely when you're up there by yourself."

"No, thank you. I'm used to it now." He said matter-of-factly.

"Merry Christmas, Severus." Tara said, and raising herself on the tips of her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. He stroke her hair affectionately and gave the faintest of smiles.

"Do you want to have tea with me later?"

"Wouldn't be proper Christmas if I didn't see my favourite old bat!" She teased him, and he slapped her arm jokingly.

"Later, then." He said and started towards the castle.

"Sure thing." She said, and a big smile lingered on her lips as she watched him trudge in the deep snow. He couldn't help it, as he was placing his newly-acquired watch in his pocket, he had to admit that she was making him warm inside. Happy. She was making him feel loved. She lit a passionate fire inside him, in places he thought that no feeling could preside ever again.

-oOo-

"I'd like to thank you, my dear Tara." Said the Headmaster, calm and sober, a few nights later. He invited his niece for an evening cup of tea in his office, which was like a second home for her already.

"For what?"

"For making my last Christmas my best Christmas." The old man said, and tears welled up in his eyes. "You have no idea how much it means to me – to be able to make peace with my brother, to be able to eat together, talk together about old times, sing together… It was the one and only thing I've always wanted. And you've made it possible."

"I still cannot believe you are going to die." Tara sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks too. "I always thought – even before I knew you were my uncle – that you were just too powerful to die."

"Wrong, my dear," Dumbledore said softly, wiping her tears away with his wrinkled finger, "no one is too powerful to die. Not even Voldemort. By the way," he pointed to her chest, "that's a very pretty necklace you've got there. A Christmas gift from a lover?"

"From Severus, actually." The woman blushed.

"I see." Dumbledore said, and cocked his eyebrow.

"It belonged to his mother." Tara said pensively, and put her warm hand over the necklace.

"It is very unusual for Severus to part with something as precious and intimate as that." Observed Dumbledore. "But still no luck then?"

"No." Tara said, her voice sad and her shoulders stooped. "When he gave it to me, for a moment I thought– I wanted something to happen, you know, I guess I was waiting for something magical– For a Christmas miracle to happen. But no, nothing." She concluded, bitter disappointment every bit as apparent in her voice as it was in her face.

"You should tell him how you feel, my dear." Said the old man and patted her hand affectionately, "Severus was never the one to read in between the lines when it came to women."

"I'm more than sure he wouldn't reciprocate." She huffed, "and I don't want to ruin our precious friendship."

"There are depths in a man's heart which are as mysterious as they are unapproachable. Perhaps you would be surprised what you might find in there." Said Albus gently.

"You're always so kind, uncle." Whispered Tara and gave the old man an affectionate hug. The Headmaster squeazed her tight in a fatherly embrace, and a few tears glistened in his majestic white beard.

"Be strong, my dearest girl. Be as strong, and kind, and loving as you are, and you'll have nothing to fear."

-oOo-

"Shall the school reopen for the next year?" Asked Minerva dully. No one felt like answering, no one felt like making important decisions. Everyone felt that this strange reality did not concern them somehow.

"I think–" Tara said tentatively and everyone glanced at her. "I think my uncle would have wanted the school to remain as he left it. Until the end of the war, I mean. Excuse me, please, my nerves are giving their way." She said, her voice shaking, and without waiting for someone to actually give her permission to do so, she walked out of the office. She walked through the empty corridors, ignoring people who tried to stop her and tried to ask her questions, she didn't want to be asked anything, she wanted to be let past. She walked out of the school and there she saw the bird; Fawkes the phoenix was singing his beautifully sad lament, circling the castle like a long red ribbon. She called him softly and after a few minutes the bird obeyed, landing softly on her outstretched arm.

"Hello, Fawksie." She said softly and stroke his beautiful feathery head. The bird closed its eyes.

"I wish it happened differently, you know." Said Tara, still stroking the bird softly. "I wish the dark side didn't want my uncle dead so much. I wish he could die in peace, surrounded by his family, I hoped Death Eaters wouldn't be the last thing he ever saw. I wish everyone knew about it, I wish everyone knew what I know, that he was struck by a cursed object the powers of which he so unadvisedly wanted to try out, I wish people knew he wanted to be delivered from this painful death, I wish people knew Severus did it out of mercy, not out of hatred, I wish everyone understood that this is how my uncle wanted to die, and that in fact, his death is not a catastrophe, but a relief to those of us who knew the truth and saw him suffer."

The phoenix brushed its cheek gently at Tara's.

"I know." She gave a sob and wiped her eyes with her left hand. "We mustn't tell. But I wish they all understood it's actually alright. Everything's alright, it is how it was meant to be."

-oOo-

Snape travelled with Draco to the Malfoy Manor. He wanted to be alone as quick as possible. He handed the shaking boy to his mother and after reporting to the Dark Lord, he excused himself. Carefully, of course, blaming the events of the evening and his subsequent tiredness rather than the truth. The truth was that he was absolutely drained. Exhausted. Sick. Miserable. There were only a few times in his life when he felt as miserably as now, and he usually resolved his troubles with alcohol, which made him loathe himself even more. He abhorred himself for who he was – a Death Eater, a spy, a liar, a miserable existence – and after that night, he was a murderer and a traitor. Plus, he was sure he would turn a drunkard after tonight, which only increased his frustration, because he hated his Muggle father just because of the same reason. He was sick of himself. Once he was alone in his house, the tranquility of which was calmly soothing, he leaned on the mirror with his forehead, hot tears trickling down his cheeks. He hated the man he saw in the mirror, and if it weren't for the safety of the students at Hogwarts and for the remnants of Dumbledore's plan, he would seriously contemplate turning his own wand against himself. He now understood only those who are so low they cannot go lower would do something like that. He now understood all the madmen and all the criminals of the world, because he now understood they all had reasons. Just as he did. If it weren't for the school, he would gladly turn himself in to Azkaban. He felt one more thing, something he suspected for a long time, and only now, in time of the greatest misery and despair, he was sure of it: His love for Lily has left him. He didn't know what it was that made it go away; it might have been too long, or it might have been the fact that Potter was now on his own and although he was asked to keep an eye on him, he did not hope he would see those green eyes of hers ever again. He felt he finally gave up. He poured himself a glassful of Firewhiskey. There's nothing that would prevent me from drowning myself in spirits, he thought. He was sipping his Firewhiskey when suddenly, there was a light knock on the door. He groaned. He didn't want to see anyone now. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to see anyone again. But the intruder knocked again. Snape realised that seeing another strange figure at his doorstep would create suspicion with his Muggle neighbours, he reluctantly got up and sauntered to the door. He opened it and there was…

There was Tara on his doorstep, standing there, holding her tiny suitcase, wearing a shy smile on her lips.

"Are you daft?" He barked at her, struggling with a desire to bang the door shut into her face.

"No. Are you?" She asked him matter of factly, as if she were asking him whether his favourite colour was red as well. Without waiting for his invitation inside, she walked into the tiny living room.

"You cannot stay here." He said. The true reality of things still hasn't reached him. He absolutely couldn't understand why she was in his house just two hours after he killed Dumbledore. _That woman is absolutely thick_ , he thought.

"Why not?" She turned around, facing him. Her stupid questions left him wondering whether this wasn't one of his whisky-induced dreams.

"They will think you had something to do in it. Especially when they find you with me."

"Who is they?" Tara asked, her voice confused. "I thought the Death Eaters are winning now, and they won't care who's found with you."

"Your naivety still amazes me." He snarled, however, he collapsed into the armchair next to his bottle. He had no intention to argue, not tonight. Tonight, he just wanted to get drunk and forget.

"Why are you here? That's my last question, answer me." He ordered sharply and his eyes glowered at her.

"I didn't want to leave you alone tonight." She said and turned her trusting brown gaze at him. His throat felt suddenly dry.

"You- What?!" He barked, turning her head towards her. She stood there in front of the fireplace, her suitcase still in her tiny hand.

"I didn't want to leave you alone tonight." She repeated. Her solemn brown eyes were big and trusting.

"Put the trunk down and sit." He invited her, although it sounded rather like a command. She did as he said, sitting in the empty armchair next to him, being separated only by the coffee-table.

"Are we getting drunk tonight?" She asked him casually, as if she were asking whether they should have chicken for dinner.

"Yes, we are." He nodded and handed her a glass which he had conjured on the spot. She accepted it and poured herself a generous amount of the whiskey. Contrary to his beliefs, this was one of the best evenings Severus had ever had. She talked only when he wanted to talk, sometimes talked only on her own and he listened attentively. Sometimes only he talked and she listened. They enjoyed the silence together, side by side. He was amazed at how much he'd actually enjoyed it.

When he woke up the next morning– or noon, rather, because they drank until the break of dawn– he found himself crouched up in the armchair and the bottle empty at his lap. Looking at the opposite armchair, he found Tara in deep slumber, her legs dangling from the armrest, her makeup smudged, her hair messy and half-fallen out of her bun. His head spun greatly and he had a momentary desire to throw up. He suppressed the annoying feeling, got to his feet, staggered, and leaned over her, hovering above, to check if she was alive. He wouldn't wonder if the binge had killed her. Relieved she was breathing, he started tottering up to his bedroom. The stairs were hard to surmount and he puked eventually upon reaching the tiny upstairs corridor. Not worrying about anything anymore, he fell on his bed, puked again into the drawer of his bedside table and fell into another oblivion. He was woken up by sensing something light sitting down on his bed beside him.

"How did you find my room?" He asked dumbly.

"I just followed the sick stains." She shrugged her shoulders and seemed absolutely undisturbed by this natural fact.

"As if you didn't puke yourself." He sneered, however, his head spun around.

"I won't say that I did," she shrugged her shoulders again, but then gave a mischievous smile, "but cannot say I didn't as well. Don't look into the cauldron downstairs, will you?"

"That one was new, you silly cow." He groaned and covered his aching head with his pillow.

"Take it easy, it was just a joke. I've cleaned all the mess around here." He heard her say. Opening one eye, he saw her give a shy smile.

"Thank you." He managed to say. His splitting headache increased and he began considering taking a hangover potion.

"I'll bring you a hangover potion – from your own stores, of course. I've taken the liberty of taking one myself."

"Aren't you taking too much liberties here as a guest?" He growled angrily.

"I needed to clean this place and to make you a hangover soup. Trust me, it'll get you on your feet."

"Whatever you want." He mumbled, actually glad there was someone in charge. Were he left alone, he might drink himself silly and not get out of bed until the next evening.

She handed him the bowl with the lentil soup and watched him eat. When he was finished, she asked: "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, you managed to put me back on my feet." He said, actually giving a soft smile.

"No, I mean getting drunk– did it help you forget?"

"I'll never forget." He glowered at her and clenched his fist.

He opened his eyes. He lay crooked in an armchair, the living room reeking with an odour of stale whiskey. There has never been a second armchair. There has never been a second glass. There was no suitcase standing by the fireplace. He looked out of the window. It was sunset.


	12. Chapter 12

**Guys, I'm so sorry for leaving this discontinued for so long! I actually have no idea if someone's still reading this, heh, but whatever, here you go!**

Tara was sitting in the first row and sobbing heavily, she even didn't have the time to blow her nose into her handkerchief, she could just sit and cry, wiping the tears off her eyes. She felt her papa pull her tight to his side and she leaned on him completely, letting herself to collapse on him as she was sobbing uncontrollably. A few chairs away, Minerva was doing exactly the same, leaning on Horace Slughorn for support. The men were just sitting upright, crying silently into their handkerchiefs. The wizard in black was babbling noble nonsense, which might describe anyone anytime anywhere, because Tara knew people always spoke nobly about their dead. No, her uncle was so much more than that, he was continuously fighting evil, he seemed to be in the lead of everything, in charge of everything, but only Tara knew him as a fragile, feeble old man who deeply regretted the majority of his private life's decisions. Only Tara knew that the aura of being composed and above all things, the impression of being omnipotent and omniscient, that was an impression her uncle was able to create very convincingly, but only she knew it wasn't always true. It seemed to her that she was one of the few people who really knew the true Albus Dumbledore.

-oOo-

"Miss Tara Henley?" Asked the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, who was leaning casually onto the shabby cupboard in Hog's Head as naturally as if he were their guest three times a week. Something about him was fierce, reserved, something about him felt unstoppable. Tara suddenly thought that the Minister must be an exceptionally good lover and blushed deeply. The brown eyes met the fierce, yellow ones and she nodded. Her papa was sitting at the kitchen table and looked as if he were torn between observing them and challenging Scrimgeour to fight.

"This is the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Said the Minister curtly and unfolded a long piece of parchment in front of her.

"I know, sir." Said Tara softly. "I helped him write it."

"Therefore you surely know what he left you." Said Scrimgeour.

"He once mentioned he would leave me some money, to… to ensure I wouldn't be destitute, sir." she blushed. Aberforth glanced at her from his kitchen table seat.

"Do you know how much your uncle left you exactly, Miss Henley?" Asked Scrimgeour. When Tara shook her head, the Minister handed her the will. When Tara saw the number, she cried out in shock: "But sir, that's– that's nine digits! I cannot possibly–"

"This is only half of what he owned. The other half went to the school fund, as he estimated in his will." Said the Minister.

"Still, it's too much–"

"You should have told your uncle." Scrimgeour said and folding the parchment, he added: "The exact amount of gold will be transferred into your vault in Gringotts. Do you have any other questions?"

Tara shook her head again, unable to speak for the shock. The Minister straightened his back and said: "If not, I would have some questions for you, Miss Henley. It's a well-known matter now that Albus Dumbledore discovered about you being his niece some two years ago. Can you explain why he left you such a fortune?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Rumour has it that you were Dumbledore's 'companion in crime' so to say. Some people think there was a lot more business between you than just reviewing school contracts and buying potion supplies. What can you say to that?"

"I…" Tara began reluctantly. "I was asked to do various things." Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows and expected her to continue, but Tara didn't want to say anything more. Aberforth broke the silence.

"That's no business of yours, why he left her money. He shouldn't have left her a Sickle in my opinion, now it will seem like I'm not able to provide for her."

"Papa, that's not true!" Yelled Tara.

"Besides, why he left her money is not your business either. Tara did what the Headmaster asked her to do, he was clearly satisfied with her and remembered her in his will. End of story." Growled Aberforth and rose threateningly.

"I don't think it's that simple, Mr. Dumbledore." Said Scrimgeour coolly.

"Everyone could've said that." Barked Aberforth. "As if my granddaughter marched into the ministry hall and was nosey about some jiggery-pokery of yours out there. You would've sent her packing, would ye?"

"The business of a Minister for Magic is way more discreet issue than some shadowy practices of a plain secretary–"

"And what could a plain secretary have done to make the Minister for Magic so interested? Nicked a few quills, I suppose?" Aberforth barked again, clearly irritated.

"Clearly, your great-grandfather wants me gone, Miss Henley." Said Scrimgeour threateningly. "Do you have anything to add?"

"Yes." Said Tara, standing up and facing the minister. Little fire was twinkling in her brown eyes, a fierce fire that wasn't definitely there when he first spoke to her. "Not that long ago, the Ministry saw fit to deploy a spy inside Hogwarts. If you feel threatened by me, you can do so again. But I would like to bring your attention to the fact that Dolores Umbridge was never able to ferret out anything, anything at all. And any other spy will end up the same, Minister. I know how to keep my affairs private."

Scrimgeour walked to the door and without glancing at either of them, he closed it shut behind him.

A fortnight later, it seemed to Aberforth that business in his inn was getting even more miserable than it had been before. All the smugglers and thieves who had used his inn as a trading place had disappeared. He looked out of the window of the inn and he could see that the street was swarming with Death Eaters. He cursed under his breath and called at his great-granddaughter: "Don't leave the house, Tara. I can see some vermin ou there, desperate to bring you to their king."

"The village seems more dangerous than ever, wouldn't you say?" She asked him, walking into the basement with a laundry basked full of dirty beddings. "That's even worse than that time with the Dementors."

"Those filthy pigs won't lay a hand on you, I'll make sure of that." Barked Aberforth and spat on the ground.

That day, Tara had difficulty falling asleep. Finally, when it seemed she was drifting into a sweet oblivion at last, she heard the faintest of raps on her window. She sat up, lighted her wand and looked out. To her horror, she could see Severus squatting on the windowsill lightly, as a shadow. She opened the window noiselessly and let him in.

"Are you safe, Tara?" Was the first thing he asked her, after having cast a Muffliato over the door. Although she was already used to standing in her nightdress in front of him, due to all his unexpected surprise-visits, she still blushed faintly.

"Yes." She whispered, then gave a soft smile. "Papa is ready to murder anyone who would cross our threshold and merely look at me. Bless his wonderful soul."

"I'm sorry that I didn't come earlier." He apologised. "My life has been… too dangerous to try to contact anyone."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you as I had wanted to." She said softly.

"You absolutely couldn't have." He said firmly, then added. "The Dark Lord has conquered the ministry. Scrimgeour is dead."

Tara gave a barely audible gasp.

"However, he's interested in you. I'm to take over the school next year, and I've done all I could to persuade him to allow you to stay there – I told him I absolutely needed to keep you and that you were under the Imperius Curse."

"But if all Death Eaters believe that, what will papa say?" Gasped Tara at once.

"I'll–" Severus hesitated slightly. "I'll explain."

"He'll kill you. He doesn't like you at all. Not since–"

"I know since when." He cut her short tersely. "Now is not a good time to discuss it. However, there's something more urgent to attend to."

"What is it, Severus?" She asked him. She has always been so nice to him, so accommodating, so obliging – not in the very beginning, of course, but pretty much since they've become friends – and Severus was now more sure than anytime before that they were best friends. The way she stood, so tentatively, like a little girl, the way she almost always blushed when she knew he was looking at her, this all made him feel protective over her. She was like a doll that needed to be protected, he thought.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you. Now." He said and his throat felt suddenly dry. Her brown eyes widened in fear.

"What does he want with me? Does he want to… kill me?"

"I don't think so." Said Severus at last. "He wants to see whether you are indeed as pliable and good as I told him you were."

"Why can't he just let me be, Severus?" She asked him, and it suddenly felt like she was accusing him.

"Because you're about to return to the school – his school." Severus said. "He wants to be absolutely sure the people inside the castle walls are the people he can trust."

"And can't I just–"

"No, Tara." He said firmly. "You need to remain in the castle. That's the safest place for you to be. Besides, I need you there."

"You–" She gasped again and her cheeks turned bright red. "You n-need me?"

"Yes, I need you." He said and took a step closer to her. "Please, come with me now. I know you're brave, I know you can face him. I'll be there, I'll protect you."

Tara didn't believe the last bit, she didn't believe Severus would dare raise his wand against his master for her sake. But his words gave her the comfort she needed, so she just said softly: "Turn around, will you?"

"I'm not looking." He said and turned to face the wall. She waved her wand and her nightgown fell off her like rose petals. Before she had time to be self-conscious about her nudity in his presence, fresh clothes flew out of the wardrobe and draped around her silhouette gently like layers of the softest of silks. She now stood facing him, and slipping her soft feet into her shoes, she said: "Where will you take me?"

"I cannot tell you that." Said Severus and offered her his arm.

"It's not possible to Apparate inside the village now." She said.

"Unless you have a special permission." He smirked and, raising his left arm in a mock-salute, he Disapparated with her, taking care not to leave a loud crack behind.

-oOo-

"Is this your pliable secretary, Severus?" Voldemort hissed and by one lazy movement of his index finger, he had her legs cuffed. She fell to the floor and closing her eyes shut, she didn't dare to move. She was terrified of his pet snake which was slithering next to her thigh. Voldemort walked towards her and lifted her face carelessly, forcing the scared brown eyes to look at his white, snake-like face.

"Is this your servant, your toy, your puppet whose strings you're manipulating so skilfully?"

"Yes, My Lord, that is her."

"Dumbledore's niece," said Voldemort and Tara realised he was speaking directly to her now, "how do you like your new Headmaster?"

"He's very nice, sir." She said, keeping her voice steady and her face plain, although her insides were frozen with fear.

"Will you obey him, little maid? Will you do anything your new master asks of you?"

Tara suddenly realised they weren't alone in the big, cold room. There were other people in hoods and masks and some of them, men from what she knew, gave a cold, derisive laugh.

"Yes." She repeated with enough subservience to sound convincing. "I'll do whatever he asks me. I'll fulfil his every wish, I'll be good and faithful servant to him."

More laughter. As Voldemort wasn't holding her chin now, Tara was looking on the ground as to not make eye contact with the other Death Eaters.

"You've mastered her excellently indeed, Severus." Voldemort said with a slight sneer.

"My Lord," Tara shivered as she recognised the voice of the Ministry employed Death Eater, Yaxley, "My Lord – could I have the girl after Severus? Maybe he won't need her after having gotten used to the role of a Headmaster…"

"No." Voldemort said coldly and all the sneering and laughter suddenly ceased. "I gave her explicitly to Severus, as a compensation for another woman I couldn't give him in the past. You're a half-blood, aren't you, girl?"

"Yes, sir." Tara repeated with enough dullness and obedience.

"With a bit of luck, Severus, she will have inherited some of her great-great-uncle's talents. Is she always as plain as she seems to me now?"

"No, My Lord," Tara could hear Severus say, "she's quite daft with her wand – with enough convincing from my part, I mean."

"Soon enough, she'll be pliable even without your curses, Severus." Voldemort assured him. "Sure enough, she'll be begging to join our ranks. Although," he added, sounding a bit bitter, "I don't know if I'll want her as my servant yet."

"Why not, My Lord?"

"Why don't you tell your Headmaster what have your parents done to offend me, girl?"

Tara swallowed a bitter gulp of hatred and grief which flooded her throat as she thought about her poor parents who died in the hands of Voldemort himself: "They have greatly offended you, sir." Said her cracking voice.

"Tell them, girl, what your father did." Voldemort encouraged her.

"He was a Muggle and pretended he was a wizard, sir." She mumbled, looking at her bended knees. His followers gasped in disbelief and cried expletives in rage.

"Exactly." Hissed Voldemort with enough hatred to make her shiver. "But if Severus is satisfied with you, I'll bestow my pardon upon you. You'll see that Lord Voldemort is merciful. I'll return to you later, Severus."

"May she stay in the castle, My Lord?"

"She may, if you see to it that she's locked and obedient."

"I will."

"What a pretty long hair you have…" Said Voldemort rather matter-of-factly and touched Tara's shock of curls with his toe.

As Voldemort walked out of the room, the Death Eaters began to sneer and laugh again.

"I didn't know you were into brunettes, Severus." Grinned Greyback and cast her a hungry look. "If you'd only lent her to me for a while or two…"

"No, Fenrir, she's staying for dinner, isn't she?" Lucius Malfoy sounded derisive and, frankly, more empowered than he should actually feel.

"No, she's leaving with me." Said Severus firmly.

"Just a moment, Snape!" A haughty, high-pitched voice made all the Death Eaters turn. There stood Bellatrix Lestrange, her face white with hatred. "Did I hear my Master correctly? Did he just praise your slut's hair?"

Severus growled: "Yes, Bella, I believe you heard him correctly."

"Then – if you please –" Bellatrix knelt beside Tara, who was still lying tied up on the floor, and grasped her hair abruptly. The girl yelped and as Lestrange pulled her into a kneeling position, tears of pain welled up in her eyes. Pulling out a silver dagger, the female Death Eater shook Tara's head violently, holding her by her hair: "Do you like my Master's remarks of praise, slut? Do you find them alluring?"

"N-No." Tara squeaked, trying to hold the hot tears of pain. Bellatrix held her hair so firmly that Tara couldn't move, even if she wanted to.

"Let her go, Bella." Severus' calm, levelled voice resonated through the room. All Death Eaters were now watching them.

"What a fat swine you are." Said Bellatrix, her voice full of contempt. And then, with one swish of her hand, she cut Tara's hair off.

Tara sat on her knees, her eyes staring at the black layer of short fibres on the ground that once used to be her hair. Bellatrix threw the rest of the thick black bunch on the floor. Turning around one more time to face Tara, she hissed: "No one will receive compliments from my Master for the same locks as I possess. It's either me, or no one!"

"Come, Tara." Snape beckoned gently and waving his wand, he rid her of her legcuffs.

"Come to your master, like the obedient house-elf that you are." Bellatrix quacked and broke into a derisive fit of laughter.

"Mind your tongue, Bellatrix, who you call 'my house-elf' might easily surpass you in combat." Said Snape without any traces of humour in his voice.

"Ha! I'd like to see that!" Snapped Bellatrix.

"Why don't we test her for you a little?" Suggested Narcissa, throwing Snape a suspicious glance. "A secretary must also protect her Headmaster a bit, shouldn't she? And while she's such a doormat…"

"Who do you think would like to attack me in my office, Narcissa?" Asked Snape coldly.

"Potter." She said with contempt. "Or that Weasley scum. Or the Mudblood. You must be prepared to throw her in front of yourself, Severus, pleasantries aside."

"I trust she's good enough. We have to get going." He said, and pulling Tara roughly behind, he left the Malfoy Manor with her.

-oOo-

With a light pop, they appeared in Tara's dark bedroom in Hogsmeade. Severus drew the curtains and lit the candles. Dawn would be breaking soon. Turning around to face her, he could see that tears were silently dripping down her chin.

"I-I'm not a doormat, Severus!" She sobbed.

"I know that you're not." He reassured her and with a few swift steps he was close enough to touch her. "You outflanked them all tonight. You're a pretty good actress, I wouldn't believe–"

"I don't want to go to Yaxley, Severus!" She gave another soft sob. "Or Greyback, or Mulciber, or Dolohov–"

"You won't go to any of them." He said firmly. "I'll see to that. I'm proud of you." He added, looking into her brown eyes. "Get some sleep, alright? I'll pick you up in the afternoon. Hogsmeade is no longer safe for you."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep." She said, hovering on the spot.

"You will." He said. "Dobby will be around with a Dreamless Sleep for you." He turned around to leave.

"I'm ugly." She said, and he could hear from her voice that she was on the very verge of crying. "Look at me." She studied her reflection in the mirror. Where used to be a thick, shiny black mass of hair was now nothing. Her hair was of chin-length now, with only a few strands of hair visible behind her ears. "I look like a man."

"There should be a simple growing spell for that." He said and flicked his wand in a gesture of trial. Tara's hair got a bit longer, however, it still didn't reach her shoulders.

"It seems like the spell's effect on human hair is limited." He murmured, and gave her a long, pensive look: "You're not ugly. You're fine."

Tara had long ago gotten used to the fact that Severus will never like her, in the same way as she liked him. So she didn't really expect him to say anything romantic to her, he would never trespass the boundary between two friends. But, as he was turning to leave, she wished for nothing more than to be able to curl up in his arms.

"Severus?" She called after him. "Will you… Will you be always with me? In the castle? I heard them saying that some Death Eaters will be there as well–"

"If they lay a finger on you, I'll blast their arm off." He said uncompromisingly. Strangely enough, he reminded Tara of her papa. "Don't worry." He said softly and suddenly, he felt a strange and inexplicable desire to hug her. Imploring all his powers to suppress this unwanted feeling, he just squeezed her shoulder gently and was off.

-oOo-

As Tara woke up, she realised she could hear agitated voices downstairs. Remembering the events of the night, she jumped from her bed and ran down the stairs. There, at the entrance to the inn, stood Aberforth and Severus, wands out, aiming at the other's face.

"I remember very well who I threw out of my inn, you scumbag!" Bellowed Aberforth and red sparks erupted angrily from the tip of his wand.

"Well, times change, Dumbledore." Severus growled and gave him a sly smirk. "I'm now one of the best visitors a bankrupt innkeeper like you can have."

"I'd rather close my pub altogether then!" Spat the old man.

"Papa, you're not fighting with the new Hogwarts Headmaster, are you?!" Tara said, her voice a bit higher in alarm, and her hands folded tentatively on the bosom of her long, pink nightdress.

The old man's jaw dropped: "Headmaster?! You– Headmaster?!"

"That's right, Dumbledore, times change, as I said." Said Severus, and much to Tara's dismay, he gave the old innkeeper another sly smirk.

"You and you cursed lot!" Bellowed Dumbledore. "Soon you'll try to take my daughter from me, won't you? But I won't let you, no, you're taking her over my dead body!" He roared and slammed his hand on the table.

"Unfortunately for you, Aberforth, she has to go with me right now." Said Snape coldly and with one glance at her, he stepped aside in the doorway and said: "Come."

"Don't listen to him, child!" Said Aberforth, and for the first since confronting Snape in the doorway, he looked frightened.

"I'm sorry, papa." Tara said gently, and sweet, silly smile spread across her lips. "I have to do what the Headmaster tells me."

"But darling, you–" Aberforth gasped and then it dawned on him: "When did you– How did you– How long has she been like this, you fecking arsehole?!"

"Language, Dumbledore." Snape said lazily. "I can make her pay for your sins, you know." He put his arm around Tara's shoulders, and turning to leave, he said: "One attempt to free her – which I'm sure you'll try to make – and she won't live to tell the tale, understood?"

"Don't worry about me, papa, I will be fine." Tara said gently, turning to hug him for the last time, and then obediently joined Snape's side as the two of them set out for the school.

"Really?" Said Tara, her voice much lower and dismayed, as they were walking through the village. "This is how you 'explain'?"

"Your grandfather is just hot-headed." Snape waved his hand lazily.

"As opposed to you, who are a born flegmatic." She smirked.

"I don't really know how I could do without you, Tara." He gave her a warm smile, actual smile, and Tara felt her fear and anxiety melt in one piece.

"Save that for the castle. You're taking me away by force, remember?" Tara said. "You're parading me through the village in my nightdress as your trophy sheep."

"I wonder when exactly I have started attending shepherd competitions?" Snape asked, amused, but realising the girl couldn't have felt very comfortable with everyone's eyes on her pink nightie, he wrapped his black travelling cloak around her. She cast him a quick, grateful look before lowering her head in her faked submission.

"Why do I have this creeping feeling that this will backfire on me one day?" Snape murmured and did not pay attention to the villagers who watched them with mixed fear and surprise.

"And why do I have the feeling that this has been a bit too easy?" Tara whispered. But just as she was about to turn to her friend for his opinion, a hex swished close to her right ear.

"Bugger–" Severus breathed out as he cast a quick shield charm behind them and snapped: "Get behind me. _Now_."

Tara did as he told her, peeping over his shoulder to find the attacker. It seemed that her papa shook off his initial state of standing frozen in the doorway, and was now furiously fighting his way to her. Severus was deftly deflecting his curses with the shield, put he knew his defense-only strategy cannot go unnoticed for long. He pulled Tara by her sleeve in front of him in the exact moment when he was sure there wouldn't be any jinx coming for a few seconds. Snape grinned and said: "You don't want to hurt her, do you?"

When he saw Aberforth lower his wand in despair, he knew he'd won.

-oOo-

"You shouldn't've done that."

"I'm sorry."

"You really shouldn't've done that."

"I said I'm sorry."

Contrary to Aberforth's expectations, Tara and Severus were lounging comfortably in the Headmaster's private quarters, drinking tea and eating their late lunch.

"I still feel awful for doing that to him." Tara whined. "I feel like a dirty little ungrateful pig."

"You'll gradually accept the omnipresent feeling of self-loathing, I assure you." Said Severus dryly.

"Have you?"

"No. I don't think I'll ever will."

He suddenly caught her glancing at him and biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh. "What?" He growled irritably.

"Remember the time when I kissed you?" She giggled.

"How the dickens have you remembered that now?" He exclaimed.

"I don't know, I'm just weird." She gave a soft laugh.

"You have dungbombs for a brain, you daft girl." He said, but she could swear she could hear a low chuckle escape his throat.

"And we must make sure it stays that way." She patted his hand, and then they both burst out laughing.

"I'll never let anyone harm you, Tara." He said softly and squeezed her hand affectionately. He didn't know why on earth he was doing that but it just felt wonderful.

"I've got something for you, Tara." He said, smiling, and taking her hand, he led her to the Headmaster's office. There was a big parcel wrapped in a brown paper and tied up with a string.

Completely gobsmacked, she unwrapped the present. Inside, there was a pair of sturdy, high boots made of leather. Tara tapped the tip of the shoe with her nail – iron. She cast him a quizzical look.

"First look at everything, then I'll explain." Was all he said.

The package also contained a red short skirt, a pair of new dragonhide gloves, and a white top.

"What's this supposed to mean? Don't you like the way I dress?" She asked him, a bit hurt.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you dress, of course, but your current attire would hardly be suitable for all the errands you'll run for me, notwithstanding the fact that it would be insufficient for maintaining your cover as my – if you allow crude language – _liege_." He said. "Let us see how it fits you."

She called him into the private living room when she was ready. The white top was short sleeved and the fabric was simple and durable, plus, the neckline was boat-shaped and quite decent. The red skirt ended up just above her knees and the high leather boots fitted her calves very nicely.

"I'm quite self-conscious about my thighs, you know." She blushed.

"I think you look nice." Was all he brought himself to say.

"What's the purpose of this?"

"The gloves and boots are purely practical, you'll be running a lot, and they protect your limbs better when it comes to some hardcore fist fighting." He winked at her and she burst out laughing.

"I thought you disliked my style of dealing with things?"

"I still dislike it, I just hate to see your ankles getting broken over and over again."

"And the miniskirt?"

"It's not a miniskirt, hussy, it's the shortest one I could bring myself to buy for you."

"But why did you buy it in the first place?"

"I just thought it looked more sporty." He admitted.

"Pfffft!" She folded her arms on her chest. "Just as I thought you might appreciate my nice butt!"

"I actually think you're quite chubby – no, just kidding, you've lost weight since you started exercising with Du- ouch, stop throwing books at me, you stupid little–"

"I dare you to finish that sentence, Snape, or I'll kick your ass with my new iron shoes so hard you won't find a chair in the whole castle to sit on!"

"Is that the proper way to speak with your– NO YOU PUT THAT TOME DOWN!"

"HA, MAKE ME, PRICK!"

As he dodged the thickest book in the castle she just threw at him, he broke into a fit of barking laughter. He just loved it. He loved the way they were, she and him. He never wanted to give it up.


	13. Chapter 13

"Wake up, sleepyhead, you've got a school to run!"

The tired eyelids lifted up, the onyx eyes blinked in confusion and found his best friend standing at the doorway of his bedroom. His best friend. His companion. The woman he cherished and protected. Once, a long time ago, he was asked to do it by the then Headmaster, but that had long since ceased to be his driving force. He felt connected to her, attached to her, he felt like she was the only one on the world who understood, who listened.

"Geez, what were you doing last night? Have you been reading all night again?" She chuckled and by waving her wand, she let the morning sun in.

"You look terrible." She said, smiling, and sat at the edge of his bed.

"You too." He mumbled and that made her laugh.

"Do I have to pull you out of the bed?" She asked jovially and getting up again, she walked to the doorway, where she turned around and said: "I'll be waiting for you in your office, an elf will get you your breakfast at once."

"Thank you," he mumbled and pulled the duvet over his head in exasperation. He noticed she was already wearing her new outfit. What he wouldn't admit, though, was the fact that he found her swinging hips in that red short skirt very, very attractive.

Half an hour later, Tara could hear his swift footsteps behind the door.

"I'm ready." Severus said and walked over to his desk where there was a big pile of parchments waiting for him.

"What's this?" He asked. "I hope it's waiting for me here?"

"You hope right!" She grinned and began to pull the huge pile apart – only now he noticed there were multicolored sticky notes attached to the bottom right corners.

"What the hell is this?!" He took one of the sticky notes and immediately regretted it because the blasted thing got stuck to his thumb.

She burst out laughing, saying: "These are Muggle office supplies – I love them! You should have seen the Muggle office supply shops! That's heaven for someone like me!"

"I can clearly see why." He smirked.

"The orange ones are the contracts we have to review, the blue ones are related to budgeting, the green ones to the curriculums…"

-oOo-

"Has Dumbledore really been doing all this by himself before he hired you?" Asked Severus in disbelief as he was unsticking a bright pink sticker from his forehead. The two of them have been buried in work for the day and scarcely found time even for lunch.

"Pretty much." She shrugged her shoulders and continued scribbling furiously on her piece of parchment.

"It's time I finally had some respect for the old lunatic." Grumbled Severus, careful that the picture of the previous Headmaster wouldn't hear him.

"By the way, any sight of Potter yet?" Asked Tara casually.

"We know– I know that the three imps hiding at the Order headquarters." Severus snapped bitterly as if he'd just had a gulp of very bitter coffee.

"Hey, just the fact that the three imps, as you like to call them, haven't been captured yet gives them some credit." Tara mused as she swung her legs over an arm of her chair. They decided to remove the wall that Dumbledore transfigured to separate his office in two – they felt that they've been working more than well together, and additionally, Severus would never admit it, but he liked to keep his eye on the lovely woman who was now his subordinate. Although he was a very private person, Severus didn't feel such need for his personal working space as Dumbledore did – unusual as it was, Tara was a very good working companion: she didn't interrupt his work, because she was as buried in hers as he was in his, and their shared breaks for tea provided some relaxation and time to discuss whatever had been going through their brilliant two heads.

"The cafeteria in London was a close call." Severus sneered.

"Yeah, but they managed, didn't they?" Tara shrugged her shoulders and amused herself by balancing her quill on her nose before their afternoon snacks arrived.

"I wonder when those idiots find out they cannot speak his name." Severus muttered, much more crossly than he actually felt about it.

"Well, it's not as if we could tell them, is it?" She said.

Then, suddenly, Severus hissed and clutched his left forearm.

"Take care." She said softly and hugged him tight. He allowed these silly ministrations of her affections simply because they didn't know whether they would see each other again – when it came to Voldemort's calls, Severus was less assured than ever, because his master proved to be angrier than ever, and the fact that Severus was installed as the Headmaster of Hogwarts couldn't be taken for granted.

"Stay here – don't go anywhere." He said, and warded the door to his office.

As he returned several hours later, he found his secretary sprawled on a settee in the corner of his office, chewing on a pencil and reading one of his advanced Potion making books.

"What news?" She asked him, looking up from the book.

"I don't want to talk about it." He snapped, threw his travelling cloak over his chair, flopped down onto it, closed his eyes, feeling much tired and rubbed the root of his nose exasperatedly.

"Okay." She said, and turned another page over, continuing with her reading. She knew that he needed time. She knew she should just continue reading, and either he would bring himself to talking, or they'll part ways later in the night.

"I thought that he would just install me as a Headmaster, and that would be it. I thought that was enough." Came a huffed voice from the table as Severus hid his face in his hands in resignation.

"But?" She suggested, seemingly still keeping to her book, letting him continue.

"But he's going to put some more followers into the castle." He huffed. "Alecto and Amycus Carrow as teachers–"

"That was expected." She said, still keeping to her book, glancing at him carefully over the rim.

"And there're going to be some others patrolling the castle and the village."

"That was not expected." She said, and putting down her book, she came around the table and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "What're you going to do?"

"There's nothing I can do." He moaned, and for the first time she knew him, he actually looked really, really miserable. "Muggleborns won't be an issue, because they're not allowed into the school anymore, but that damned duelling club Potter started two years ago will medddle, I'm sure of it–"

"Then I'll tell them not to." She said, trying to be reassuring.

"They won't listen to you, because you'll be my right hand now, and everyone will believe you to be Imperiused." He said. "There's nothing for me to do but watch children being beaten and tortured."

"Severus, that's not why my uncle made you a Headmaster before he left." Tara squeazed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure something out."

"We?" He looked at her in disbelief.

"Sure, I'll always be with you." Tara gave him a warm smile. "I'll never leave you."

He exhaled through his nostrils, and it was almost as if he let out a desperate sigh. Suddenly, she felt his hands groping around her waist and she let herself be pulled towards him in a tight embrace. She hunched over him, placing his head on her bosom and entangling her arms around his seated form, she pulled him close as well.

"I can feel your heartbeat." Came a voice from somewhere where her right breast was. "It's a strangely comforting sound."

"I'll never leave you." She said, stroking his hair gently, "I'll always be here with you."

"And I'll never leave you." He said, and slowly rose to his feet, taking her hand with his, and placed the two hands on the door to the office. "You'll be able to walk through these wards as easily as I can, while to everyone else, the door will appear to be locked and guarded. I've added an extra layer of protective spells on this office, so whomever would like to harm you here won't stand a chance. So I must ask you not to go outside this office unless I specifically ask you to."

"But Severus – how about my chamber?"

"It's not safe for you to live there anymore, not with Avery and Yaxley and Dolohov strutting around the castle at night. You'll live up here with me."

Her face suddenly got as red as a beetroot. Her heart began to beat frantically, her palms getting all sweaty. The butterflies in her stomach began their wild dance.

 _Severus Snape just asked me to live with him… What am I going to do?!_

"I mean," he quickly corrected himself, "I'll transfigure the Headmaster's guest bedroom into your bedroom. I can set my Potions lab elsewhere."

"R-Really? A-Are you sure?" She squealed.

"Of course, I won't be interrupting your privacy, you can be sure of that." He said firmly.

"Sure– I mean, if they're guaranteed to stay away from me if I stay up here…" She peeped, not quite knowing what to do with her fidgety hands.

"That's settled then." He sat down to his desk, quite oblivious of her internal agitation. Either oblivious, or he decided to turn a blind eye on it.

"Now the only question for me to ask you is whether you are a good actress?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because of the train."

"The train?"

-oOo-

"Dear students, this is the Headmaster's Secretary speaking."

Ginny and Neville's heads snapped up from their reading.

"We haven't left London yet." Moaned Seamus. "Why does she feel the need to lecture us even before we get to change into our schoolrobes?"

"Shhhhhhh!" Ginny shushed him impatiently. "Dad said that the school is going to change because of You-Know-Who. Maybe this is the first step. Maybe we'll get some useful info from her, something we can use later."

"As long as she doesn't talk about Crumplehorned Snorkarks, I'm not interested." Yawned Luna and flipped the pages of her Quibbler lazily.

"I'd like to encourage all of you to stay in your compartments during the entire journey, except for the Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl who will patrol the train in regular intervals. Any use of magic on this train is strictly prohibited, as well as the use of any magical objects and artefacts. Any patrol who spots the above mentioned transgressions has an obligation to report them immediately, as well as to assign detention. Any skirmishes will be severely punished by the Headmaster himself. Moving through the train is also prohibited. We wish you a pleasant journey to Hogwarts."

"What do you reckon it means?" Asked Neville anxiously.

"It means," said Ginny, and glanced at the corridor which was quickly getting devoid of students, "that they want to control us and that they want to leave us at the mercy of the Slytherin Death Eater kids."

Suddenly, there was the Headmaster's Secretary, a plain woman with short wavy black hair, red skirt and leather high boots, knocking on the glass of their sliding door. All of them jerked in panic.

"A quick word with you, if you please," she smiled sweetly and close the door after her. "It has come to my ears that you all have been a part of a student organization formerly known as Dumbledore's Army. Is that true?"

"Yes." Said Ginny defiantly, her red cheeks burning as much as her hair.

"Well, Miss Weasley," the Secretary threw her a sharp glance, "let me make it plain to you all: Whomever picks up a fight will be expelled. Whomever will engage in a fight will also be expelled. One wicked word, one hateful glance at the new teachers or our _special guests_ at Hogwarts, and you are going to receive detention till the end of the year. Is that clear?" The Secretary stared at each and everybody in the compartment, her brown eyes being a strict, merciless judge, and each student reciprocated her look with such hate that she couldn't but stretch her lips into a sly smile. "I would mind your steps carefully if I were you."

"Who are the new teachers?" Snapped Ginny, not even trying to sound polite.

"The best candidates for the job who will finally put some sense into the thick-skulled heads of yours." The Secretary smirked again and turned to walk out of the compartment. "Be good – and no one will get hurt."

She said, gave a slight chuckle, and stepped out of the compartment.

"You can intimidate us all you want." Said the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood. The Secretary froze in her footsteps, just about to shut the door. "We will never surrender to your dictatorship."

"Detention, Miss Lovegood." Smirked the Secretary, and closed the door shut behind her.

"God, how I hate her!" Cried Ginny, and punched her first into the cushion of her seat. "They want to subdue us– silence us– scare us– but we will never– ever–"

"Isn't it weird though?" Wondered Seamus. "Last year and the year before that, she seemed to hate Umbridge as much as the rest of us, and Dumbledore had her always by his side, even at night, some people said. Isn't it strange that Dumbledore would choose someone so evil to work so close to him?"

"He did choose Snape." Ginny reminded him wryly.

"True." Seamus straightened up. "But still – rumour has it that she is even his niece. Shouldn't someone related to the Dumbledores be a good guy?"

"I don't know," Neville shrugged his shoulders, "maybe she's actually warning us – you heard her, 'Be good and no one will get hurt'.

"Nonsense, Neville." Growled Ginny, resolute to stand her ground.

Suddenly, their door opened again. But this time, it wasn't the Secretary.

"Well well well, look who's here, a bunch of blood traitors and Muggle-loving scum." Sniggered Goyle, accompanied in tow by Zabini and Crabbe.

"Have been promoted to the Moron in Chief, have you?" Sneered Dean Thomas. Goyle roared and a fistfight ensued. However, before the others had time to join in, there was a loud BANG and the train stopped.

"Those damned Gryffindors" was the only thing Tara could huff as she came running to the corridor which she had left not but five minutes before. Her eyes widened. Where there used to be Miss Lovegood leaning on the wall of the train with her magazine was now a Giant hole – an actual hole in the train. Mr. Thomas and Mr. Goyle showed signs of a fight, with one sporting a bloody nose and the one a black eye, but surely, that couldn't have given such a blast and stopped the train…

"Snape's whore." Said a man's voice. Tara turned around.

They were there.

The Death Eaters.

Slowly, Tara looked from Dolohov, to Avery, to Greyback, to Mulciber. There were four of the actual Death Eaters in the compartment, plus there were the Slytherins – Tara feared that some of them might want to join their fathers in a fight that could ensue.

"Where's Miss Lovegood?" Tara asked, and her gaze travelled from one man to another.

"Are you suggesting we kidnapped a filthy traitor's girl, whore?" Mulciber snarled.

Carefully, she said: "The Headmaster ordered me to protect the students and now I have one student missing."

"Protect from what?" Dolohov smirked. "Your precious Headmaster is one of us, if you weren't paying attention for the last dozen years!"

"Don't bother, Antonin." Mulciber growled. "She's been brainwashed."

"My master says it's the Dark Lord's wish that the pure wizarding blood shall remain protected." Tara said, hoping to sound dull and convincing enough for them to sod off.

"What would _you_ know about the Dark Lord's wishes, scumbag?" Yelled Avery and Tara fell on her knees and gritting her teeth, she faced the Cruciatus curse without making a sound.

"Careful, Avery, you might break the Imperius." Greyback noted, then glanced at her and licked his teeth. "Although I wouldn't particularly mind if she stepped out from under Severus' wing, I could use her…"

"Out with you! This is the students' compartment – if I remember correctly, you gentlemen have taken the first class suites for yourselves, may I remind you to use them?" Tara said, and her wand was drawn ready.

This appeared to have angered them even more. Tara was frantically searching her mind for any piece of information she knew could scare them off, anything she knew would make them go away…

"You know I report directly to the Headmaster, after all," she said eventually, faking her red lips into a sweet smile, "and you surely know to whom reports he? The Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased to know you have been firing curses in all directions in a train where the Slytherin students are – many of whom are offspring of some of his devoted followers?"

"Fuck you, bitch!" Spat Avery and shoved his wand back behind his belt.

"The Dark Lord may protect the students on this train," said Greyback and gave a crooked smile, "but he sure doesn't protect you, sweetheart… And your Headmaster isn't here either… I wonder what you're gonna do about it?" He took her hand roughly, and started pulling her away with them into the first class compartments.

"Let her be!" Bellowed Seamus Finnegan and a few red sparks erupted from his wand which he had drawn ready, but before Greyback could spit an answer after the Gryffindor student, Tara drew her arm back and punched the Death Eater into his stomach. The blow sent the man flying through two sliding doors and through the train window, then he got caught by the turbulent wind current outside the train's window and disappeared altogether.

The small compartment of Gryffindor students broke into a loud cheer, however, Tara gave them a stern look and said: "I'm still watching you. You'll move into a different compartment. Quickly, don't dawdle. Back to your seats with you. You are to behave, or I have the right to punish you."

Then with the help of the conductor, she fixed the holes in the walls of the train, and when the train started moving again, the amplified voice of the Secretary could be heard again, ordering everyone to return to their seats.

"Did you hear it? Brainwashed!" Breathed out Neville, sparkles in his eyes, careful that the younger Gryffindor students they now shared a compartment could not overhear them.

"I don't know what makes you so excited about it, especially when Luna's gone." Mumbled Ginny and curled up on the train seat, she began to revise for her DADA classes – just in case.

-oOo-

After leading the first year students up to the front of the Great Hall, Tara put on a sly smile and kneeled before the Headmaster.

"Everything is ready. The train ride went fairly smoothly, although one student disappeared."

The Headmaster gave a deep frown, and stepped right in front of her, towering over her like a vicious vulture.

Tara suddenly felt the push of Severus' Legillimency on the outer barrier of her mind and she let him in. All Dumbledores were natural Occlumenses.

 _Who's missing?!_

 _Lovegood._

 _What happened?_

 _I think she was taken._

 _The others are okay?_

 _Yes._

"And you call that smoothly?" He smirked, and took out his wand.

"He's not gonna– Is he?" Neville squeaked, and Ginny watched the tip of his wand nervously.

"Headmaster – I couldn't do anything, she was taken before I could get there–"

 _"_ _You should have been there!"_ Snape rarely raised his voice. This was no exception. And yet, his half-hissed remark cut the air in the Great Hall like a sword. It was spoken with such spite and malice that all students cowered slightly, even the Slytherins. Tara yelped, still kneeling before him.

"No– please– I'm sorry–"

But Snape's wand had already been lashed through the air like a sharp knife. A long whip appeared, and– the students couldn't believe it– the whip was _on fire_! – and with a hissing swish, it landed on the secretary's kneeling form on the ground. She cried out in pain and covered her head with her hands.

"Get out of my sight." He hissed, and she scrambled up to her feet and hurried out of the Great Hall.

"Where was I?" Said Snape nonchalantly and half the staff table averted their eyes away, the other half pierced him through with glances full of hatred.

"Ah, the new punishment system."

-oOo-

There was a knock on the door of her room.

"Are you alright?" Severus' head appeared in the doorway.

"Of course I'm alright." She murmured and closed the book she was holding wearily.

"Do you want to talk?" He asked carefully. She just shrugged her shoulders and nodded for him to come in. As he seated himself on her chair by her bed on which she lay sprawled with the book, she noticed that his usual black overcoat and neckcloth were gone. Instead, he was dressed only in his white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves.

"I was brewing." He pointed at the shirt and his mouth crooked into an insecure smile.

"I hated seeing you like that." He said softly after a while.

"For a moment, I believed it. I believed that I was really scared of you, and then I was scared of that, too." She blushed, taking a side glance at him.

"It was a bit over the top." He smirked wryly. "I had to decline a good number of duel challenges, including one from Minerva, one from Hagrid and one from Mr. Finnegan." Tara chuckled.

"Did they swallow it, though?"

He sighed: "Yes. I told the entire school that you were Imperiused, and that any attempts to free you were futile."

"And?"

"That's where the challenge from Mr. Finnegan came." Severus chuckled darkly. "Then I told them that anybody who'll disobey me will end up like you – the fake flames didn't hurt you, I presume?"

"No, but the whip was pretty much real." Tara hissed as she remembered the gash on her back.

"I'm sorry." Severus whispered sadly. "I'll give you a Murtlap salve for it later."

"Why did you tell me to do this, anyway? Just to scare the disobedient?"

"And the followers, also." He explained. "By showing them how merciless I am as a Headmaster, it would be a suicide mission if any of our – special guests – attempted anything against the students in the near future, even against the damned Gryffindors, with me behind their necks. And it's also a sufficient proof for the Dark Lord that I have you fully under my control, which means that you don't have to see him tonight."

"I was supposed to?"

"Yes."

"If my papa finds out about this, he'll be livid." Tara sighed.

"He's already quite livid." Snape reminded her, then clutched at his left forearm and hissed.

"Take care." She said softly as he was walking out of her room. He casted her one final glance, and said:

"Tara, I'm… I'm truly sorry."


End file.
